


A Very Supernatural Journey

by judithyaffa, mainegirlwrites, TheYmp, wynefred



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Case Fic, Dimension Travel, F/M, Gen, Hunting, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-12
Updated: 2012-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-03 12:57:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 49,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/judithyaffa/pseuds/judithyaffa, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mainegirlwrites/pseuds/mainegirlwrites, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheYmp/pseuds/TheYmp, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wynefred/pseuds/wynefred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachelle, SPN fan and accomplished fanfic writer, goes on her very own adventure with Sam and Dean. Co-written by judithyaffa, <a href="http://www.fanfiction.net/u/2822205/mainegirlwrites">mainegirlwrites</a>, <a href="http://www.fanfiction.net/u/2782635/TheYmp">The Ymp</a> and <a href="http://www.fanfiction.net/u/2180176/Wynefred">Wynefred.</a> A birthday story for <a href="http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1405279/Enkidu07">Enkidu07</a>, co-creator and co-manager of the <a href="http://www.fanfiction.net/community/Enkidu07_and_Onyx_Moonbeam_Drabble_Challenge/65227/3/0/1/">E/O Drabble Challenge Community</a> on Fanfiction.net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Journey Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachelle, Supernatural fan and fanfic writer, gets sucked in.

**This chapter written by judithyaffa**

 

The first time Rachelle felt the pull of the vortex, she was sitting on the couch in the den next to her housemate and close friend, Meredith. She rubbed her hand against the soft blue velvet of the couch that they had chosen together, a find in a secondhand thrift shop, when Meredith and her husband had first invited her to move into the top floor of their Victorian house right near campus. _The couch was so relaxing_ , Rachelle thought. She and Meredith had just had a "girl's day out," a break from their graduate studies (which Meredith's husband jokingly referred to as "Meredith's other husband"), topped off by catching up on the last few episodes of "Supernatural". They had just finished watching "In My Time of Dying" for the second time, and Rachelle and Meredith were commiserating over John's death.

"We should do something to commemorate John," said Rachelle, "We should write a drabble in his honor."

"I don't know," said Meredith. "The Word of the Week doesn't lend itself so well to the theme of character death." She took out a piece of paper and a pen and considered.

The E/O challenge was something the two of them had started, and it was picking up steam. They already had twenty authors contributing weekly drabbles, stories of exactly 100 words, with whatever word Meredith sent out that week.

"Iron... Hmmm... " Rachelle couldn't think of a connection between iron and John's death. "Maybe something about his iron will? You know, how he decides to sacrifice himself for Dean?"

She fingered her newest piece of jewelry, a beautiful amethyst ring hanging from a gold chain. She'd recently inherited the ring from her great-aunt, who'd always claimed it was an old pirate's ring that had been passed down in the family. The elaborate decorations of the ring were certainly an eye-catcher and recounting the pirate heirloom story made her feel special, like it set her apart from the average person.

Still playing distractedly with the ring and chain, she slipped the tip of her finger into the band. Suddenly she felt a tug on her legs. She looked down at the couch. A swirl of vapors rose from the floor, like a whirlpool of air, pulling her down. Her legs started slipping off the couch. She let go of the ring. The vapors dissipated, and she blinked her eyes. Had she imagined that? What on earth was going on?

She turned to Meredith, who was still looking at the paper and hadn't noticed a thing. "Meredith?" she asked. "Did you see..."

Meredith looked up and blinked her eyes, pen still poised to write. "What?"

Rachelle shook her head. "Nothing," she said. "I think I'm a little tired. Maybe we'll work on it tomorrow?"

"Sure, but don't forget to start on your term papers, Rachelle. You're not going to be much of a shrink if you don't pass these courses."

Rachelle laughed. "Yeah, and don't forget to study that dirt, Mer. Civil engineering wouldn't be the same without you."

X X X

The next time Rachelle saw the vortex, she was rollerblading on the trails behind University campus. There was a stiff wind that morning, blowing through the needle-like branches of the fir trees along the path. She stopped for a moment, resting her hand against a tree, and breathed in the fresh, pine-scented air. She had risen early that morning, still a little shaken by what she'd seen the night before. Maybe she'd been hitting the books too hard lately. Psychology demanded a lot of research and experimentation, and those term papers were killers. Unlike Meredith, who split her schedule between work and school, Rachelle was a full-time student with a heavy class load. This was the first time she'd ever hallucinated. _But_ , she thought, _why do I feel like I wasn't hallucinating?_

Strands of her blond hair had come loose from her ponytail and were sticking to her sweat-soaked forehead. She brushed them back and straightened up. She was well aware that the mind was a powerful thing. It was possible to have physiological reactions based on psychological events. She laughed. What psychological event was she responding to? John Winchester's death? He was a fictional character, for God's sake!

No, it didn't make sense. Unless she was cracking up...

She started down the trail again, the ring swinging on its chain with each stride. Without thinking, she fingered the ring, slipping it onto the very tip of her finger. Suddenly, the pine needles on the ground started swirling around her and she felt a pull on her legs. She reached out for the nearest tree, a young pine, its smooth, thin green trunk bending in the wind as a new vortex appeared right under her, its pull growing stronger. She held on and prayed, her skates slipping and sliding. _Oh God, please let this thing go away._ Her prayers seemed to work, or maybe it was because her hands were now off the ring, but the vortex slowed down and finally stopped, like it was out of gas.

"What the Hell?" Rachelle said as she slid down the tree, weak in the knees.

For a while, Rachelle just sat there in shock. Twice in the space of twelve hours she had hallucinated. Or had she? Well, something weird had happened to her. Something that reminded her of the fantasy books she liked to read... or of "Supernatural". Something that just didn't happen in real life.

Was it all in her head?

She shook her head. Was there anything in common between both times? One was indoors, in the den, while the other was outdoors, in the woods behind Campus. But each time, right before... she had been fingering the ring.

Should she take off the ring? But damn it, she really liked wearing it. It made her feel connected to Great Great Great (who knows how many greats) Grandpa Hector, who'd captained a pirate ship in the 1700's and who had brought the ring into the family (or so Great Aunt Flo had always insisted). Besides which, if she touched it, she was afraid she would start hallucinating again.

She was going to need some help.

She stood up slowly, still a little dizzy from being pulled by the vortex. Meredith wasn't around today; she and her husband reserved Saturdays for "togetherness time". And she didn't want to interrupt that for something that was probably just in her mind.

So who could she go to?

 _Of course!_ Rachelle set off gingerly in the direction of the dorms, careful not to touch her ring.

X X X

"You were almost pulled in by _what?_ " Amy, a short, petite brunette, bent over Rachelle to pour her a cup of tea, trying not to sound incredulous. Her fluffy pink angora sweater, the one she practically lived in, looked like it needed to go to the wash again. Rachelle sighed, wondering how she could notice these things when she was being pursued by hallucinations from another dimension. She sat back on the bright embroidered cushion, one of many scattered around the dorm room, looking up at Amy's soft, gamine face and tried not to think about how this must sound.

"A vortex."

Shawna, Amy's roommate, sat on the beanbag chair opposite Amy and Rachelle, her tall, just under six foot frame stretched out, her legs folded under her. "A vortex as in... a tornado?" she asked, her voice curious but not judgemental. She ran her fingers through her short red hair.

"A tornado, a whirlpool, what you see in a washing machine... " Rachelle shrugged at the stares she was getting. "Yeah, I don't believe it either but it happened twice!"

"So..." Shawna said, looking thoughtful, "what were you doing before these vortexes showed up?"

"The first time, I was hanging out with Meredith in our house," said Rachelle. "And the vortex started, right under the couch. It was very light, though, and it stopped right away. Meredith... didn't even notice."

"And the second time?" Amy asked, putting down the teapot on the coffee table and pulling up another cushion across from Rachelle. She sat on it Indian-style and rubbed her hands on her soft, stone-washed jeans, bare feet and red, painted toes peeking out from the denim.

"The second time," Rachelle said, "I was on the trails behind campus, and I was touching my ring."

"Your ring? You mean you got it?" Shawna was excited.

"Well, yeah..." A little shyly, Rachelle pulled the chain from under her top, displaying the amethyst stone. Shawna rose from her seat on the beanbag chair and moved to a cushion next to Rachelle.

"Oh, it's fantastic!" Shawna pronounced it like it was three words, fan-tas-tic, a habit her friends occasionally teased her about. "A real pirate's ring, you said? Can I have a closer look?" She leaned over, but Rachelle pulled away.

"Be careful!" she said sharply.

"What's wrong, Rachelle?"

"Both times I was touching the ring when the vortex came." Rachelle admitted. "I just... don't want the vortex thing to happen again."

"Oh, poor baby..." Amy moved around the table to rub the kinks from Rachelle's shoulders. "You just got it, and already you're afraid of it," Amy teased. Rachelle felt some of the tension melt away under her friend's skillful fingers. How was someone so small able to exert such pressure? She released a breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding.

Shawna stood up, unfolding her long, lanky frame. It was like watching an accordion open up. She began pacing back and forth in the room's limited walkspace, her long, twill skirt swirling around her ankles. Shawna was in one of her "investigative modes", as she liked to call them, when something was particularly bothering her.

"So you think whatever this is started when you touched the ring."

"Uh-huh."

"No offense, Rachelle, but it sounds like something out of one of those sci-fi books you like to read."

"I know."

Shawna stopped pacing for a moment. "Did you try touching it since?"

"No."

"Well, do it now." She was standing, legs apart, hands on hips.

"What? No!" Rachelle shook her head vehemently. "No way."

"Rachelle, you can't let this fear rule your life. Maybe it was all in your mind, maybe it wasn't. But you were alone then." Shawna pinned Rachelle with her most earnest gaze.

"Okay," Rachelle said, "I'll try it. But the moment something weird happens, I'm taking the ring off my finger."

Reluctantly, she pulled the chain out again and slipped the ring on, the purple gem sparkling in the room's bright light. She waited...

Nothing happened.

No vortex.

No strange winds.

No swirling clouds.

Nothing.

Rachelle sat there feeling foolish, playing with her ring and wondering if she really was going crazy.

X X X

That night, Rachelle had just managed to convince herself that she was not losing it, that she'd had two freak hallucinations brought on by overwork. She desperately needed to do something physical; it always helped her relax. Luckily, this was Saturday night, when she had access to the university's olympic-sized swimming pool, the one with the built-in jacuzzi. Only one of the amenities of the university's state-of-the-art Recreation Center, built last year to bolster their image and increase the student body.

She smiled in anticipation of the warm water, the smell of chlorine, and the challenge of beating her best time. She picked up the phone to call Laura, her swimming buddy and a fellow lifeguard. She was surprised to find no dial tone. "Hello?" she said.

"Hello?" It was Laura's high-pitched voice. Apparently, she had called Rachelle at the very moment Rachelle picked up the phone.

"Hey, Laura, ready to meet me at the Rec Center?"

"I'm sorry, Rachelle, I just can't make it tonight," Laura said regretfully. "My brother's coming in for a visit, especially to see me."

"I understand," Rachelle said. "Don't worry, we'll do it next week. I'll keep the pool warm for you." Laura's chuckle made Rachelle smile as she hung up the phone.

Rachelle changed into her swimsuit and put her clothes over it. She paused, thought a minute, then went downstairs and knocked on Meredith's door. "Mer?" _They might not even be back yet_ , she thought.

Meredith opened the door, took one look at her, and pulled her inside. "Rachelle, what's wrong?"

"Look... Something weird is going on. I don't know how to explain it."

"Try me." Meredith sat her down on the sofa. Rachelle explained again about the vortexes, and her confusion when nothing had happened in their friends' dorm room. When she finished her tale, Meredith said, "Wow! Sounds like something straight out of 'Supernatural'."

"I know, exactly what I was thinking," said Rachelle.

"So I take it you want company when you go swimming tonight."

"Do you mind? I know you have work to do..."

"No, that's okay, let me just tell hubby what's going on. Alex!" she called, "Just going out for a couple of hours with Rachelle."

"Okay, hon," came the call from the other end of the house.

When they got to the pool, Rachelle stripped to her bathing suit, the ring still hanging from its chain around her neck, and hesitated before diving in. The pool on Saturday nights, off hours, was so nice and quiet. Rachelle told herself that nothing would happen tonight. _After all_ , she reasoned, _nothing had happened this afternoon in Amy and Shawna's dorm. Whatever this thing was, it must be over._

At first, all was calm. She was on her tenth lap, head in the water, and was thinking of calling it a night and going home to finish the drabble with Meredith when the water started to swirl and churn around her. The growing whirlpool pulled her in with a force much greater than either of the times before.

She dragged her head out of the water and gasped, "Mer!"

"Rachelle! Hold on!" Meredith looked around for something to throw to Rachelle so that she wouldn't get pulled in herself. The life preservers! There in the corner. Meredith ran and threw one over to Rachelle, but she had been pulled under already. There was no visible sign of her, though the water was still churning, and the life preserver was pulled taut as if it would snap any minute.

"Rachelle! I'm coming!" Meredith dived into the water, holding on to the life preserver, as the vortex tried to suck her under. The waters calmed but there was no sign of Rachelle. Meredith dived down, over and over, growing more and more frantic with each dive. The whirlpool had subsided but Meredith continued her frenzied search, then pulled herself out of the pool and ran to call the campus police.

The whirlpool was getting stronger and it took all Rachel's strength to keep her head above water. She swam desperately, struggling against the current, and dimly heard Mer shouting, "Rachelle! Hold on!"

"I'm trying," she choked out, but was sure that Meredith couldn't hear her above the noise of the vortex. Water entered her mouth and she gagged, spitting it out. Just as she was sucked under, she remembered to close her mouth and hold her breath.

She found herself going down, down, down... _Wasn't the pool shallower than this?_ she thought, but it was like being shot through rapids, the loud rush of the water and the force of the current pounding her. Finally the pressure slowed and she was able to swim upwards, fighting through the subsiding current. Her arm broke through the water, and then her head, and she hyperventilated, sucking in as much air as she could while treading water.

"Meredith?" Her voice was thin and weak. "Mer?"

She swam to the side of the pool, holding on to the edge, and looked around. There was no sign of Meredith.

"Meredith?" Suddenly she gasped. Not five feet away, bobbing by the side of the pool, was a body. A young woman. A woman she knew. Rachelle's scream was long and piercing.

And her next thought, as she looked at the body, was, _Oh my God, it_ is _just like Supernatural!_


	2. Not in Kansas Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachelle finds herself in a strange place, familiar yet completely different. Where has she gone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by [mainegirlwrites](http://www.fanfiction.net/u/2822205/mainegirlwrites).

Two sudden splashes in quick succession snapped Rachelle out of her thoughts. Two young undergrads, also visiting the Rec Center for a swim, had heard her screams and come running. They leapt into the pool, one pulling the floating body to the side, the other checking on Rachelle.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," Rachelle insisted. "Please help her, please help Meredith!" Her voice bordered on hysteria. The young man helped Rachelle out of the pool, then aided his friend in pulling the limp body of the young woman up on the azure ceramic tile floor.

Rachelle shivered fiercely, though the room was steamy from the heated water. She couldn't bear to look at the body the two men now leaned over. Her feet moved forward, seemingly of their own will, until she could peek over the shoulder of the young man giving her friend CPR.

Only, it _wasn't_ Meredith.

It was Laura.

Rachelle staggered back, her hand on her mouth, her eyes wide with confusion.

One of the young men looked up at her. "I'm so sorry, she's dead."

The next few hours were pure turmoil for Rachelle. The campus police, local town police, ambulance and curious classmates flooded the Rec Center. Rachelle was asked the same questions again and again. Every time she mentioned the vortex, she was met with a quiet response – the kind of quiet you get when everyone thinks you're out of your mind.

"...and – and it was Meredith I was here with – my friend Meredith! Laura was busy, she couldn't meet me! Have you checked on Meredith – is she okay?"

At Rachelle's insistence, a kind police officer located Meredith and brought her to Rachelle's side in one of the Rec Center offices. Rachelle was still in her bathing suit, shivering under an undersized pool towel. Her ancestor's ring dangled on her necklace, swaying back and forth. Rachelle burst into tears when she saw Meredith, finally releasing the torrent of emotion that she had been holding deep inside. Meredith threw her arms around her dear friend, sharing her sorrow over the unexplainable loss of her friend.

"It was supposed to be you," Rachelle attempted to explain again, through her sobs. "Laura was busy – so you came to the pool with me!"

Meredith pushed back the damp hair from her friend's forehead. "I haven't been here to the pool with you in weeks, Rachelle. You always come here with Laura. Listen, the police said you can go," she said. "Let's go home, okay?"

Rachelle shook her head, frowning, but she knew her friend was right. "Okay," she relented, and let Meredith steer her through the curious crowd of onlookers. In a few minutes, they were home, and Rachelle hopped into a hot shower in an attempt to wipe the afternoon away. She closed her eyes, but could only see the image of Laura's face in her mind.

Laura's face.

Maybe there was just too much going on at once – or the shock of it all – but Rachelle suddenly remembered what she had seen when she had peeked over the man's shoulder.

Laura's kind blue eyes were locked in an icy stare, and the skin on her forehead and checks looked like it had been burned. Rachelle gasped out loud at the sudden memory, forcing shower water into her throat. She sputtered in shock.

 _Burned? She was in a pool – how could her face have been burned?_ But the redness and blistering were unmistakable.

Rachelle shut off the shower and jumped out, thoughts running rapidly through her mind as she dried off. Tossing her towel to the floor, she noticed the last of the shower water flow down the drain.

It flowed down into its mini whirlpool in a clockwise direction.

_I'm okay, I'm not going crazy, it's just some stress, I'm okay..._

She put on the bathroom sink and flushed the toilet, and they all cooperatively drained clockwise. Rachelle stared at the swirls of water, biting her bottom lip.

_Since when do I live in the Southern hemisphere?_

She brushed the steam off the mirror and gave herself a long, hard stare. Her large, blue eyes stared back, ringed red with tears and worry.

_Get yourself together, girl._

She watched in the mirror as her necklace dangled, swaying back and forth. She raised her hand to steady it, but then pulled it away. She realized touching her heirloom was what got her into trouble in the first place. Rachelle contemplated taking it off, but decided against it. She finished getting dressed and went downstairs to have dinner with Meredith and her husband.

Meredith and Alex were putting the finishing touches on a simple meal. Alex kindly pulled out a chair for Rachelle.

"Thanks. Hey, uh, guys? Do you think it would be weird – to go see – Laura? You know, one last time?"

The wife and husband looked at each other worriedly, sitting down at the table on either side of Rachelle.

"I – I don't think you want to remember Laura that way, Rachelle," Meredith said slowly, choosing her words carefully.

"Her face. Her face was burned, wasn't it!" Rachelle slammed her hand down on the table, making the other two jump. "I knew I saw that – how did her face get burned? What did the police say?"

"It was some kind of acid - ," Alex began, but stopped when confronted with a glare from his wife.

"We shouldn't talk about it," Meredith insisted. "Let's just eat and we can watch a movie after dinner, okay?"

"Dinner? And a _movie_? Mer, one of my best friends is _dead_! I was there, and I don't know what happened to her – maybe I could have saved her – and you want to watch a _movie_?"

"It's _Jaws_ ," offered Alex helpfully.

With a shout of exasperation, Rachelle pushed herself away from the table and marched upstairs to her apartment and into the den. Meredith followed her.

"What happened to the couch," Rachelle cried, her puzzlement momentarily distracting her from her anger.

"What couch?"

"You know - our couch – the blue velvet – ," Rachelle gestured frantically to the green and orange plaid upholstered monstrosity that sat in the former couch's place.

"Rachelle, go to bed. You are a wreck. You're my friend, but I don't know what's wrong with you," Meredith complained bitterly. She turned and walked away, back to her floor.

Rachelle shook her head in shock and disbelief. She had to get out of here. Something, no, _everything_ , seemed to be so wrong. In a rapid staccato, her feet hit the wooden stairs until she pushed open the door to the crisp outside air. She stared up at the night sky, reveling in the peacefulness of the stars above her. She breathed in deeply, attempting to calm her rapidly beating heart and swirling mind. She walked for a few miles, then suddenly feeling exhausted, returned home and fell into bed, succumbing to a deep sleep.

X X X

_Rachelle was looking at herself. At first, she thought it was a mirror. But she put her hand forward, and the Rachelle she was looking at grasped her fingers. She was real._

_'The more you wear it, the more you'll see…,' the other Rachelle told her. Rachelle gasped, and when she pulled away her hand, the amethyst from her necklace lay in her palm. Confused, she looked up, but she was alone._

Rachelle woke to the glare of sunlight on her face through her unshaded window and the sound of police sirens in the street outside. Alarmed by the memory of the dream, her hand flew to her throat to ensure her amethyst was still there. Her hand found the cool metal and she enclosed the precious stone in her hand, reassured.

_The more you wear it, the more you'll see..._

Moaning, she pushed her head up off the pillow and checked the clock next to her bed.

The second hand on the clock was running backwards. Rachelle blinked quickly and rubbed her eyes with her fists, still shaking off the dream. When she looked at the device again, it had stopped ticking completely. With a sudden, back-handed swipe, the clock met its fate with the floor.

X X X

Rachelle worked her way into the crowd that had gathered outside of Blair Hall. Yellow police caution tape sectioned off the entrance to the building, which housed faculty offices and some classrooms. She nudged the person next to her.

"What's going on?"

"Dunno," said the tall, young man, straining his head to see above the crowd. "But I heard someone found something strange in Dr. Jackson's office this morning."

"Strange?"

"Yeah – something strange in his big fish tank, you know, the one in his office? Hey, look! They're bringing something out!"

The police pushed an aisle through the crowd as several firemen and paramedics struggled with a gurney holding a large, rectangular object, covered with a sheet.

"Back please, stay back," the police insisted. Rachelle found herself on the front line, with the gurney being wheeled right by her. The rectangular object was obviously the fish tank, so large it loomed over Rachelle's head. She could hear the soft sloshing of the water inside it. A sudden, soft gust of wind curled under the sheet and lifted it gently off the tank, revealing what should have been kept hidden.

Dr. Jackson lay inside the fish tank, his body contorted and twisted. He was wearing his typical button down shirt and khakis, and still even had his glasses on his face. But his hands and face were pressed up against the glass in a last gesture of desperation, eyes locked in an icy stare, the flesh on his face horribly burned.

One of the fish tank's occupants, an orange and black clown fish, swam demurely out of Dr. Jackson's mouth and looked at Rachelle.

Rachelle stared back in revulsion, stepping backwards into the crowd.

"Another death - another horrible death -," she babbled in terror, then she turned and ran. Her feet pounded the familiar paved sidewalk she'd traversed a thousand times – to lectures, to the Rec Center, to meet friends for lunch. But now it seemed so foreign and frightening. Blinded by tears, she didn't even see the man as she ran into him, bouncing off his firm chest and landing on the ground with a grunt.

"I'm so – so sorry," she mumbled, grasping the hand that was offered.

"That's okay," said Dean Winchester, smiling gently, pulling her up. "I'm Agent Brody, and this is Agent Hooper," he said, gesturing to Sam Winchester.

"Could you direct us to Blair Hall, please?"


	3. Oil on the Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys investigate some mysterious deaths in a college town and wonder: who's muddying the waters?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by [Wynefred](http://www.fanfiction.net/u/2180176/Wynefred).

The Impala coasted into the gas station parking lot, the engine dying on its own as Dean pulled to a stop beside a pump.

"Good girl." Dean patted the dashboard fondly before turning to Sam. "See, I told you she'd make it." His proud grin shined through the bruises coloring his right cheek and jawline. The last hunt had been difficult for them both, but Sam had gotten off lightly, with only scrapes and scratches from debris flung by the poltergeist. Dean, who had been tossed through the air like a rag doll, bore the brunt of the physical evidence of their encounter.

"Yeah, barely. If the gas station had been any further down the road, we'd be pushing her right now."

"You have no faith in my baby's abilities."

"Right. I'm gonna find the restroom and get supplies. You... feed your baby. She's hungry."

Dean grumbled incoherently and Sam grinned. The men exited the car together, Sam rising quickly and sprinting across the lot to the restrooms. Dean eased himself out more carefully, shouting at Sam's retreating back for his brother to bring him a coffee. Dean rubbed a hand across his bruised ribs before stepping to the back of the car.

Lifting the nozzle from its slot pulled on the tender chest muscles, bringing a grimace to his face. He flipped the lever to set the pump on automatic and rested against the trunk, waiting for the tank to fill. The station's door clanged open and Sam strolled out just as Dean set the nozzle back in its slot.

"You get my coffee?" Dean grouched across the hood of the car before carefully sliding back behind the wheel. His brother settled into the passenger seat seconds later.

"Of course. Found something else, too." Sam handed Dean a newspaper, folded to reveal the headline at the bottom of the page: _Man Drowned While Fishing_.

"Yeah? And?"

"And, read the article."

Dean scanned the article, his eyelids raising as he read. "Third and fourth degree chemical burns on his face?"

"Yeah. The environmentalists are up in arms about chemicals being dumped in the river, but authorities say there's no sign of chemical pollutants."

"How'd he get burned, then?"

"Don't know. The guy's buddy was standing next to him on the river's edge and turned away for a minute. When he turned back, the guy was thrashing in the middle of the lake. The buddy dove in, dragged the guy out, and called 911 when he saw the guy's face. He was dead before the paramedics got there."

"Awesome. Where're we talking?" Dean passed the paper back to Sam and put the car into gear, tires squealing as he pulled out of the lot.

"College town about 80 miles north of here."

"Great. We'll get there before dark, but too late to do anything tonight. I say we get some rest and interview the buddy in the morning."

"Sounds good."

X X X

"Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, Mr. Turner." Sam began as he shook the other man's hand. Decked out in their FBI suits, the boys had been readily welcomed by the case's only witness.

"Rosco." The man corrected.

Dean chuckled. "Rosco? Like on _Dukes of Hazzard_?" Dean grinned broadly, undaunted by Sam's disapproving frown.

"Yep. Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane... best dang character on all of TV." The man waved the brothers into his mismatched living room, gesturing for them to sit on the frayed couch.

"Totally. Did you see the one where Rosco..."

"The reason we came to see you today, Mr. Turner..." Sam interrupted. Dean appeared chagrined for a moment before schooling his face into something more professional.

"Was because'a how Earl died, isn't it?" Rosco picked nervously at the holes in the knees of his faded jeans.

Sam nodded solemnly. "It is. Now, you said that you weren't facing Mr. Brown and didn't see him enter the water?"

"Yep. That's true. I didn't see nuthing." Rosco paused, his gaze thoughtful. "We was fishing for trout at our best spot, but we weren't having much luck. The fish just weren't biting none. Then I turned to bait my line again... I had this new grub I wanted to try. One second Earl's standing right there next to me and the next he's splashing out there in the water. Good thing the current's not bad or I'da never got him outta there."

"What about when he was out in the water?" Dean questioned. "Did you see anything unusual."

Rosco shifted uncomfortably, avoiding their eyes.

Sam jumped in, compassion written on his face, "Mr. Turner... Rosco... you can tell us. What did you see?"

"It's crazy, but..." His eyes shifted between Sam and Dean as he weighed their sincerity. Satisfied, he nodded his decision and continued. "I thought I saw something in there with him, dragging him out further. When I shouted, it let him go and swam away... _upstream_."

"Did you see what it looked like?" Dean almost bounced out of his seat in his eagerness.

"Got a pretty good look. It was kinda human-shaped, with arms and a head like a man, but its skin seemed sorta leathery, like a lizard. And it had real sharp teeth. It flashed'em at me before it let Earl go." Rosco stood, extending a hand to each man, his eyes searching both brothers' faces. "You boys believe me, don'tcha." It was a statement rather than a question.

The brothers rose and shook his hand, responding simultaneously, "Yes, sir, we do."

"Good boys." Rosco escorted them to the door.

"One more thing, Mr... Rosco," Sam began as he stepped over the threshold. "Exactly where was that favorite fishing spot you mentioned?"

X X X

After changing back into their casual clothes, the boys headed out to Rosco's fishing spot. Thanks to the fisherman's excellent directions, finding the location was relatively easy. The yellow caution tape roping the area confirmed that they were in the right spot.

A quick search of the area revealed nothing interesting.

"Friggin' police tracked up the area so much, we'll be lucky to find anything!" Dean groused. His ribs were still bothering him, and the trek out here to the middle of nowhere didn't help his mood any.

"They're just doing their job, Dean." Sam reasoned.

"Yeah, well, this one's not their job, so I wish they'd just stay out of our way."

"Wait... what's this?" Sam bent to get a closer view of the water lapping the grassy shore. He reached his hand into the water, scooping up a handful of the liquid before letting it run from his fingers, then displayed his hand to Dean.

"Pretty oily for water containing no pollutants." Dean commented. He pulled a vial out of his bag and passed it to Sam.

"Yeah." Sam filled the vial, capped it, and gave it back to Dean, who placed it back in his bag.

"Well, Sammy, it looks like we've got some research to do."

Sam nodded while wiping his greasy hand on the grass, trying unsuccessfully to remove some of the residue, before giving up and sullenly rubbing the slick substance on his jeans. Dean grinned, giving his brother's back an encouraging swat before making his way down the path toward the car.

X X X

Hours trapped in a musty library yielded very little helpful information. Tired and grumpy after their long day, the boys stopped at a local diner for some food before heading back to the motel. Dean's plans for the night included a long, hot shower, a couple of aspirin, and bed. In that order. Sam intended to research on his laptop for a few hours before turning in.

They waited at the diner's counter for their take-out order, casually watching the news program on the TV in the corner. The newscaster prattled on about the local high school cafeteria-food improvement program, then moved on to the story of a beloved tree being demolished to make way for a new through-street.

A special news bulletin interrupted the droning newscast, the screen abruptly changing to an image of a reporter on location at a local university. An agitated female witness ranted about the wrong person drowning in the university pool. The brothers exchanged meaningful looks while watching the story unfold. The waitress set the styrofoam boxes of food next to the boys, who paid for their meals and headed to the car. Their plans for the night had just changed.

Dean fished in his pocket for the car keys, also checking to make sure he'd brought his lock pick set, while Sam searched for directions to the university on his cell phone.

They had work to do.

X X X

The next morning, dressed again in their FBI suits, the brothers drove onto the campus. Their nightly excursion into the Rec Center had revealed the same oily substance in the pool's water. The boys were back today with the vial samples from each location, hoping to interview witnesses and gather more information.

They walked toward the campus offices, intending to start their day interviewing the university's staff and making their presence known on campus. Before they reached the offices, a large number of students running down the street, talking and yelling agitatedly to each other, caught the brothers' attention.

Dean stopped a group of students running past them. "Hey, what's going on?"

A gangly dude with long hair and glasses answered him hurriedly as the rest of his group ran on. "Somebody's dead! Over in Blair Hall!" The kid ran on, anxious to join his friends in watching the excitement.

Sam and Dean took off in the same direction.

From out of nowhere, a young woman plowed into Dean, bouncing off him and landing on the ground with a grunt. Dean's ribs twinged painfully from the impact. The young woman remained sitting, babbling her apologies, her face reflecting terror.

Dean reached a hand to help her up, ignoring the pain in his ribs.

"That's okay," he said, offering her his most soothing smile. "I'm Agent Brody, and this," he gestured to Sam, "is Agent Hooper."

"Could you direct us to Blair Hall, please."

The young lady blinked for a moment as though she wasn't really processing his words. Dean realized he was still holding her hand and tried to let go, but she clasped his hand in a death grip. She was kind of cute. Dean would totally hit on her if she hadn't been regarding him with panic-filled eyes.

"Are you alright, Miss?" He tried.

"I just saw..." The girl stopped, seeming to see Dean for the first time. "You're... you're" she sputtered, then took a deep breath before continuing in a much more level voice, "You're Jensen and Jared."

"Who?" Dean glanced over at Sam, who shrugged.

"Jensen and Jared. You know, from _Supernatural_."

"You've got the wrong guys. We're with the FBI, investigating a drowning that occurred here last night."

"Wait, Dean... Agent Brody... I think she's the witness from the news last night." Sam interjected.

"Dean? You're Dean?" the girl's face turned hopeful and a bit confused. "Dean Winchester?" At Dean's closed expression, she turned to Sam. "And you're Sam? _The_ Dean and Sam?"

The brothers looked at each other, unsure how to respond. Sam spoke, each word low and cautious, "How do you know our names?"

"I can't believe you're really you! It's impossible. But..." She burst into tears and threw herself into Dean's arms. "I'm so glad you're here!"

Dean patted her back awkwardly, sharing a perplexed glance, a silent communication, with his brother: _This girl must be nuts!_


	4. Testing the Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachelle has met Sam and Dean... but will they ever trust her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by [The Ymp](http://www.fanfiction.net/u/2782635/TheYmp).

Wrapped up in a strong pair of arms that she'd had more than a few daydreams about in the past, Rachelle was at last able to bring herself under control by taking several deep, calming breaths.

 _This so doesn't make any sense_ , she thought, but for the moment she was happy to just go with it.

Feeling a little too shy to let her hands wander any lower, Rachelle instead gave Dean a final squeeze for good measure, blushing guiltily as he gave a manfully-muffled groan of pain. From knowledge gained through her first aid training, and the way he was holding himself, she suspected he might have a fair number of bruised, if not cracked, ribs.

Rachelle stepped back reluctantly from Dean's warm embrace while casting a longing glance over at Sam. She gave herself a mental telling off with a heavy sigh; she really needed to get herself together and concentrate on the events at hand.

Giving herself a little shake, she cleared her throat, trying to put on her best professional, sane face. Then she had a horrible, self-conscious thought and looked up and down the street with suspicion.

"Did Meredith put you up to this? This isn't one of those mean, hidden camera shows is it?"

Dean raised one quizzical eyebrow.

Oh no, she recognized _that_ look.

"I'm not crazy," she shouted, wincing at the way she sounded.

"No, no, of _course_ you're not," Dean soothed, not quite sounding as sincere as she would have liked. He cleared his throat, " _Christo_ ," he coughed.

Rachelle glared at him; at this rate she was rapidly becoming a Sam-girl. "I'm not a demon," she growled.

"I think she's telling the truth, Dean," Sam interjected earnestly.

Rachelle smiled at him in gratitude. _Yes, he's_ _**definitely**_ _becoming my favorite. Gosh, he's so... big._

Dean didn't seem too happy with her attention being diverted to his brother. At first she thought it was due to the leering look he'd given her when they'd first collided, but now she realized that live and in the flesh he was so much _more_ protective of his brother than the show suggested, if that was even possible.

Dean placed what initially seemed to be a comforting hand on her arm until she discovered it was just a ruse to steer her round so that he stood between her and his brother.

"Okay, so do we know you from somewhere?" he asked.

"Not exactly. See, there's this television show and you and Sam are in it," Rachelle explained, cringing equally at the forceful grip Dean held on her arm, and how unlikely it all sounded. She wondered about the advisability of telling them that they were fictional characters in a television program, but she decided she had nothing to lose since they already seemed to think she was crazy.

 _Heck, maybe I am_ , she thought.

"Hmm, _right_ ," Dean laughed in a voice thick with sarcasm.

" _Okay_ , then how about this - I know that you and your brother Sam are hunters and that you've been trying to track down the demon that killed your mother."

Both men's relaxed and friendly manner changed in an instant and they now looked at her with hostile, narrowed eyes. She wasn't used to someone staring at her with such intensity. It was actually quite frightening, and it was at that point she realized that these weren't cosseted actors playing television characters; they were desperate men that risked their lives daily and killed things for a living.

It was only then that she thought about one of the more recent episodes she'd re-watched with Meredith, and it occurred to her why they might be so sensitive.

"I'm very sorry about your father," she said softly.

Dean rocked back on his heels and looked at her with a stunned expression on his face.

Behind him, Sam swallowed audibly and went to place a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder, but it only met with empty air. Sam returned his hand to his pocket, glumly staring at his shoes.

"How..?" Dean whispered, in a voice suddenly hoarse.

"I told you, I watched it," she answered, "Like I saw how you smashed up the Impala, your baby."

Sam looked at her, "You know Bobby, too?"

Dean turned and glared at him in irritation. Sam blushed when he realized he'd named the closest person they now had left to a father.

"Yes, and I've seen how you're scared of clowns," she teased, pointing at Sam.

Sam just looked a little embarrassed, before tilting his jaw up in a 'so what of it?' expression. But it was Dean's reaction that astounded her; his face blanched, he shifted uneasily from one foot to another, and his eyes filled with a look of absolute terror. He cast a quick glance from Rachelle and back to his brother, before licking his lips in a nervous tick that Rachelle had always associated more with interviews she'd seen of the actor, _Jensen_.

Her stomach turned at the pleading look he gave her, and her mind went back to an underlying theme of the last couple of episodes she'd watched with Meredith.

_What did John whisper to him? That's why he's so nervous, he obviously still hasn't told Sam yet._

Her heart softened towards him again as she remembered being on the verge of tears at the start of the episode with the clown, when Dean had lied to his brother by claiming John had had no last words. She'd swooned and sighed with Meredith over the terrible burden of guilt and grief Dean must have been laboring under.

She gave Dean a small smile of sympathy that she hoped he would silently understand.

Before she could help herself an awful thought rose unbidden in her mind and she looked back over at Sam, in horror. For just the briefest of moments it looked like Sam was wreathed in thick black smoke and when he smiled at her in confusion at her expression, his mouth seemed stained with blood. She blinked and he was back to normal.

 _It must have been a trick of the light_ , she tried to reassure herself.

She'd only just remembered that she'd spent that long night talking with Meredith until dawn trying to figure out what John must have said. Meredith had been convinced it was about Sam. "And look at his face," she'd said, pointing at Dean's anguished expression on the television screen, "Whatever it is... it's _bad_ , and Sam is all he really cares about."

"I just need to show you this," said Dean, bringing her back to the present, as he reached one hand into his inside jacket pocket. Before Rachelle could react he'd grabbed her arm with his other hand. She struggled to pull away only to find Sam blocking her exit. She jerked in surprise as Dean tipped something wet over her arm, before running the cold silver flask, that had contained the liquid, down the inside of her forearm.

For a moment everyone, including Rachelle, stood frozen in place as they stared at her arm, "Not. A. Demon," she repeated through gritted teeth, throwing off Sam's hands from her shoulder. For a moment, when she noticed how his center of gravity was off, she was tempted with the thought of throwing him to the ground, but in the end after looking at his eyes she decided it would be a little bit too much like kicking an overgrown puppy. Plus Meredith would never forgive her.

"After all the weird and wonderful things you've seen, why can't you just accept that I know who you are?" she asked, shaking her head, "If it helps, think of me as another Missouri."

"Well, I never fancied buyin' _that_ crazy ol' broad a drink," Dean smirked, handing Sam a small wad of bills, "Hey Sammy, why don'tcha find a Starbucks or somethin' and get us all some of that syrupy girl-coffee you like so much."

Sam gave his patented bitch-face, but did as he was told, although not before giving Rachelle a glower that made it perfectly clear that if any harm came to Dean while he was away he would raise Heaven and Hell to track her down.

Rachelle gulped in fear; she'd never really noticed before that underneath his soft and friendly exterior it was actually Sam who at his core was the scariest Winchester.

Dean waited patiently while his brother stalked off in search of overpriced and overly-milky, caffeinated beverages. Once Sam was out-of-sight he dropped his relaxed persona.

"Okay, you know something, so spill it," he spat angrily.

Seeing the fear and hesitation in his eyes again, Rachelle couldn't find it in herself to be angry with him.

"Look, I know your dad told you _something_. But I don't know what it is - although I'm pretty sure it's to do with Sam - and whatever it is I'm guessing it's probably bad... But please, believe it or not, I _am_ on your side and I won't tell Sam that you know... whatever it is."

 _That's gotta go down in the history books as one of the strangest conversations ever_ , she thought, while looking at him hopefully.

Dean stared at her full-on for a long, long time, before finally letting out a breath, seeming to sag slightly with relief.

"Thank you," he said in a voice that was barely a whisper and with a look so vulnerable that Rachelle just wished that this time she could hug _him_ better.

The moment passed as Sam arrived back bearing coffee and muffins and Rachelle could almost see the barriers come crashing down behind Dean's eyes as he re-assumed the 'protective older brother' mask.

"So I was thinking," Sam said, aware of an awkward silence, but not quite able to figure out the reasons for it, "If you say you know us from a TV show, do you have any evidence we could see as proof?"

"Sure, loads back at the house. Why didn't I think of that? Meredith and I are _huge_ fans," she laughed.

"Sam? _Really?_ We've got a crime scene going cold and _now_ you want to watch TV?"

"Look, Dean, she's obviously involved somehow. I've got a gut feeling about this," Sam said quietly to his brother so that Rachelle couldn't overhear.

"Yeah, well, so long you trust my gut next time it gets a _feeling_ ," Dean grouched, already thinking about lunch, as he waved for his brother to lead on.

Feeling absurdly proud to be in their company, Rachelle led them back to the home she shared with her best friend, only to see the door open and Meredith herself emerge.

"Oh, hi Rachelle. I'm just off to lectures," Meredith explained, looking at Sam and Dean with open curiosity.

Rachelle gave a huge grin in response, "Look who I bumped into!" she couldn't help but squeal in excitement.

A chill feeling of dread washed over her at her friend's politely blank expression.

"I'm sorry, have we met?" Meredith asked.

Rachelle was stunned; she couldn't believe it, if anything her friend was an even bigger _Supernatural_ fan than she was.

"Hi, I'm Sam, and this here's Dean. We're old friends of... Rachelle," Sam answered, stepping in to fill yet another awkward silence, while Dean gave a tight, non-committal smile in greeting.

"Oh well, nice to meet you too. Sorry, I'm already late, must dash, bye!" called Meredith before rushing off down the street.

Feeling like she'd lost her mind, while knowing what she _wasn't_ going to find, Rachelle led the Winchesters into her house. As she'd feared and somehow expected, all the _Supernatural_ -related items she and Meredith had previously owned were conspicuous by their absence.

She even checked her computer. "Oh no, not the fanfic too," she groaned.

"Fanfic?" Sam asked curiously.

Rachelle tried to control her blushing as she waved the question away. She thought she might tell them about the fanfic later if she really had to, although she'd definitely omit any mention of _Wincest_.

Rachelle felt deflated, while Dean looked bored by the proceedings, but Sam had an almost cunning expression on his face.

"You mentioned seeing that I was scared of clowns," Sam prompted, "Was that in one of these TV shows you've seen recently?"

Rachelle nodded, expecting Sam to disbelieve her, but instead he launched into a long series of detailed questions regarding what she had seen in other episodes, and her more recent recollections. He quickly discovered her connection to the case the brothers were currently investigating and the events leading up to Laura's death. It was an interesting insight into the law student training, which he'd obviously received in his time at Stanford, that Rachelle wasn't used to seeing in the show.

The brothers had shared a significant look, long experience having taught them that there was no such thing as coincidence, especially in relation to one of their cases. Bumping into Rachelle had certainly been an act of fate.

"So? What do you think?" Dean asked Sam, and Rachelle was touched to see the way he deferred to what was so obviously the younger Winchester's area of specialty.

"Well, I was hoping Rachelle here might have some future knowledge of cases we haven't worked yet, but it seems pretty current, although it's interesting that she only seems to know about the more noteworthy ones. I guess the last case wouldn't have made great TV," he explained.

"You're telling me," winced Dean, pacing up and down in Rachelle's living room and rubbing his side as his ribs twinged in discomfort.

"From your description of the changes around you, the differences in your apartment and your friend's memories, I think it's pretty clear that this vortex you keep seeing has somehow pulled you into a parallel universe. You know, there's a lot of conjecture around this in the latest quantum string entanglement theory..."

"Yes, yes, thank you, Einstein. If we could just stick to the facts, _ma'am_ ," interrupted Dean in a mocking, but affectionate tone, "Water seems to be a pretty common theme here, you think this all could be connected?"

Sam shrugged, but looked impressed at his brother's deduction, "Could be," he nodded.

"Right, let's get ourselves back over to the site of the last death then," Dean sighed, holding his side again.

"Okay, I'm coming with you," ordered Rachelle, making it clear from her expression that she would brook no disagreement. "But first I'm taping up those ribs for you."

Dean's face scrunched up in a terrible scowl and he huffed in irritation, not used to being told what to do by a civilian. Just as Rachelle braced herself to withstand an angry tirade, Sam gently tugged his brother to one side.

As a trainee psychologist she was fascinated by the incredible display of non-verbal communication that took place in front of her.

Dean somehow managed to frown even more and shot her a venomous glance to which Sam gave a loose-limbed shrug and raised his eyebrows. _They obviously don't trust me_ , she thought, _but I think Sam'll give me the benefit of the doubt._

Dean pouted and Sam responded with an open handed gesture of placation. Dean paused, until Sam gave a sad puppy-dog pleading expression, before finally releasing a huge sigh and rolling his eyes. _Oh, it's like watching a master at work._

Sam grinned in triumph, "Okay," he agreed.

"Yeah, well, it's on your head," Dean mumbled

As Rachelle led a now shirtless Dean into her bathroom in search of bandages, she still couldn't quite believe the reality of her situation.

_If there's no Supernatural on TV then what on earth do people do on a Thursday night?_


	5. Wading In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachelle learns what it really means to be a hunter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by judithyaffa.

Rachelle prodded Dean Winchester's lean, muscled chest with her fingers, and when he winced in pain, placed the bandage in position slightly above the site of the injury. "I'll need you to exhale," she started to say but then, when he said, "Yeah, yeah, I know the drill," remembered that this was Dean Winchester. He'd done this _how_ many times before?

This wasn't the first time Rachelle had taped someone's ribs; she thought wryly of those idiots at the pool who thought it was a great idea to pretend they were Evel Knievel in a speedo. And it was - until they hit the water full force. She'd never had any trouble keeping her professional face on while patching _them_ up. But this was Dean Winchester, and she had to admit it was a challenge not to let her hands wander or stare too much at his firm torso.

He seemed to know it, too, because there was a slight curl to his lips and a knowing look in his eye.

"Do you do mouth-to-mouth too?" he quipped. She nearly dropped the tape.

"Dean Winchester, before you hit on me, you should know I'm a black belt in Tai Kwan Do."

"Scary." He said it in a voice that said quite the opposite and reminded her just why she'd become a Dean girl in the first place.

She decided to change the subject. "You know you probably should get yourself x-rayed at some point."

"Right," he said, "I'll just signal for a time out while I go to the ER... I'm sure whatever's in the water will respect that."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine... but try not to get yourself knocked around. You don't want to make things worse."

"Can't promise anything. So, are you finished yet? The crime scene is getting colder..."

She finished taping his ribs and Dean eased himself off the table. "Not bad for a medic."

She flushed. "Thanks."

As she was about to leave the room, he stopped her. "Rachelle, I know you're dead set on going with us, but I'm asking you not to."

She stared at him. This was not what she had expected.

"You know I have to," she said. "My friend was murdered."

"Rachelle, you don't know what you're getting into." His voice was rough with urgency; she could tell that pleading was not natural for him. _This must be very important to him_.

"On the contrary, I know exactly what's involved in a hunt," she said. "I've watched the shows, some episodes a dozen times over."

"Rachelle, this isn't a TV show! You don't know - you can't know until you're out there." She remembered how concerned he had been for Haley in the wendigo episode, and how he had wanted to keep her out of the hunt. Suddenly, she knew where this was coming from.

"Dean, I know you're worried about me getting hurt... but I need to do this. I need answers."

He sighed. "Fine, but promise me you'll follow our lead here. Let us do the talking."

"Sure," she promised. "Don't worry, I'll be a good little mouse."

"I doubt that," said Sam, as he came into the room, dressed in a suit and tie. He looked quizzically at the two of them. "What did I miss? Come on, Dean, get your shirt on! Time's a-wasting!"

Dean snapped his shirt at Sam. "Keep your panties on, Samantha, we're coming."

X X X

Rachelle tried to look nonchalant but felt like a fish out of water as the boys flashed their FBI badges at the coroner. Dean still walked a bit stiffly, though he was definitely doing better than before. Rachelle smiled, remembering how bravely she'd insisted on needing to find the answers. But now, an hour later and on site with the boys, Rachelle wasn't feeling quite so courageous. The sense of unreality, the shock that had gripped her, was dissipating, and the truth of her situation was finally sinking in. _My God,_ she thought, _I'm hunting with Sam and Dean._ The _Sam and Dean_! It was like being thrust into the lead part on a Broadway production with no rehearsals or time to learn your lines.

The coroner, a short man whose tag read Cody Tippens, MD, was pulling on a fresh pair of gloves. His long, curly blond hair framed a face that looked too babyish to be dealing daily with corpses. He nodded to the boys but eyed Rachelle with surprise. She smiled at him and he shrugged, then took out three pairs of gloves and handed them out.

"Thanks," Sam said, taking the gloves. "It was good of you to fit us into your busy schedule."

Dr. Tippens laughed. "You certainly are the most polite group of FBI agents I've met." He led them to Dr. Jackson's body, covered by a sheet that was standing up a bit higher than usual. "In the ten years I've been a coroner, I've never seen anything like this..."

"Ten years?" Rachelle couldn't keep the doubt from her voice. "Who are you, Doogie Howser?"

Sam shot her a warning glance. Rachelle stifled a giggle but quickly stopped herself when the three men looked at her. "Sorry, don't mind me," she said.

Dr. Tippens laughed. "That's all right. I've been getting that all my life... good genes." He winked at Rachelle.

"That kid was so lucky to make it through med school so fast. I actually met him once!" the coroner said with pride.

"So...Doogie is real...?" Rachelle ventured. Sam abruptly cleared his throat, prompting her silence. _Right...television shows are real in this universe!_ she chided herself.

"No, of course not... But the show is based on a true story."

Inwardly, Rachelle breathed a sigh or relief. It was enough that Supernatural was real. To have other TV shows come to life, well... it strained her sense of reality.

"Of course," said Sam. "So you were saying... this was weird?"

Dr. Tippens pulled back the sheet. "All those burns. Burns in the water... And we couldn't get his arms down due to the rigor mortis... Made it very hard to work," he said ruefully, then thought better of it. "I mean... no disrespect to the dead..."

Dean and Sam stared at Dr. Jackson's body, arms still up as if pressed against the glass. Rachelle hung back shyly, deliberately not looking at her teacher's corpse, unwilling to view the hideous sight a second time, but the coroner's words brought the image forcefully back. Instead, she observed the boys.

Sam's face got a little grey, and he swallowed. _Funny, he's seen so much, you'd think it wouldn't bother him,_ thought Rachelle. Then she remembered Sam saying he was going to puke when the boys were examining a decapitated woman in the episode "Bloodlust _"._ Dean gave his brother a quick, searching glance, and when Sam nodded back, looked up at the coroner. "So, what was the cause of death?" Dean asked, "Drowning?"

"What you'd expect," said the coroner. "He drowned... but it doesn't make sense. He shouldn't even have been in that tank."

"That's right," Rachelle said, remembering. "Dr. Jackson's tank... it's got a heavy cover on top, with only a small opening for feeding the fish. He never opened the cover. Wouldn't even clean the tank himself, had someone else come in to do it every couple of weeks."

Dean gave her a quick, sidelong glance, and she could see he was impressed. "So what, you're thinking murder?" Dean asked the coroner.

"Seems like it," he said. "But I don't know how it's possible." The man's voice picked up a little bit, as if the weirdness of this case excited him.

"Why not?" asked Sam.

"The top was closed. Locked. Like she said, the opening to feed the fish is too narrow for him to have fallen in."

"So how did he get in - through the glass?" Rachelle joked. All three men looked at her silently, and she looked down at her shoes and bit her lip. The coroner continued as if he had not been interrupted.

"...and then there are the bruises on his face..."

"What about them?" Dean asked.

Dr. Tippens pointed to Dr. Jackson's face. "Do you see a pattern?"

Rachelle's curiosity won out over her squeamishness. She had noticed the burns on her professor's face earlier but she hadn't noticed the bruises. They lay in a curious pattern - lighter in the center of the face, darker around the edges - that looked vaguely familiar. Around these bruises, along the edges of her teacher's forehead and cheekbones, his face was burned down almost to the bone, his skin a mottled red, his hands up as if still pressed against the sides of the tank. The skin on his hands had lost their color and his mouth was frozen in a perpetual rictus of horror. Dimly she noted the coroner's incisions, which, together with the effect of the burns and bruises, made him seem like some alien test subject from one of the old sci-fi movies.

She shuddered, the bile rising in her throat, her stomach heaving. _Don't you dare_ , she thought. _Don't you dare mess this up for them._

"Rachelle?" Sam asked, looking at her worriedly. The concern radiating from Sam warmed her but Dean's glance strengthened her - a look of solidarity and compassion, not of censure or pity for the "weak civilian". _He's been through this before_ , she realized.

She forced the bile back down. "I'm fine," she said. Then she looked at Dr. Jackson's face again. "That looks like a..."

She and Dean said it at the same time. "...handprint!"

"And also, look at this!" Dr. Tippens pointed out five slash marks that Rachelle had taken for incisions.

"At first I thought those were knife marks, but the scoring, their shape, aren't consistent with wounds from a blade..." he said.

"But consistent with claws?" Dean guessed.

"I thought..." The coroner looked a bit sheepish. "Well, this doesn't make sense at all..."

"It looks as if something were holding his face and burning it?" asked Sam.

"You didn't hear it from me. I want to keep my job!" Rachelle thought it remarkable that this man had a sense of humor after ten years of working with the dead.

"Well what caused the burns?" she asked.

"The effect on the skin was caused by some kind of acid, though it would have to be something powerful to work in water," the coroner said. "But I still don't know how he even got in the tank."

"Well, let us know if you find out anything new," Sam said, handing Dr. Tippens a card.

"Of course."

He covered the body again and he and the boys walked towards the door. Rachelle took one last look around the room. Was it an effect of the light? The room was clothed in mist, a grey cloud, but that was impossible; the windows were all closed. _It's the fog of death_ , she realized, unsure of how she knew that. Then she noticed patches of grey, like some strange spiritual mold, covering many of the room's surfaces - along the sides of the slabs, dotting the sheets that covered the bodies, on the edges of the drawers where bodies were stored.

 _The more you wear it, the more you'll see..._ The voice from her dream echoed in her head.

Without thinking, she took out her necklace and slipped on her ring, but the effect only got stronger, the fog denser and the grey of the mold starker to her vision. She shivered and pulled her finger out so fast she thought she might have bruised herself.

All at once, the bile she had kept down began to rise, and she ran, shoving past the others, not stopping until she was leaning against the concrete of the coroner's building, in the cool October sunshine. Sam and Dean arrived just in time to see the last vestiges of breakfast spraying onto the concrete.

Sam helped her up, his face a mask of compassion. Dean didn't say a word, handing her a crumpled cocktail napkin from his pocket. She looked at it a moment. "Cyndi 555-2370?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

"Never mind that. Get yourself cleaned up," he said gruffly. "We're going to the police station and then to lunch."

She wiped her mouth as well as she could. _Who could think of food at a time like this?_ she thought. _Right, this_ is _Dean Winchester._

X X X

Detective Tyrone McFarling stared in frustrated resignation as Sam and Dean flashed their badges. "Federal agents? Don't you guys have bigger fish to fry?" _And where have I heard those names before?_ he wondered."We're doing fine on our own..." he protested, but stopped when he remembered his conversation just a half hour ago with the Chief.

_"So what have you got on the 'burning water' cases?" his boss had asked him. Tyrone thought the name an unfortunate choice, sounding like a commercial for some kind of whisky, but Kelly Appleman, the junior squad member, had picked it and it stuck. What made the biggest impression in this case were the burns on the victims' bodies._

_"Not much yet, Chief. I'm afraid we're dead in the water on this one." The words slipped out before Tyrone had thought them through._

_"Well, we'd better start moving soon, Tyrone. I've got parents and faculty members ringing me off the hook, demanding answers, and the Board at the University are making noise. And these are the big cheeses in this town."_

Tyrone came out of his reverie and realized he'd better add one more person to the list of people clamoring for answers. The shorter Fed, Agent Brody, seemed peculiarly fired up about this case. He stood in a posture of sheer arrogance, arms folded across his chest, and stared at Tyrone in disbelief. "So you've got a suspect in mind already?" he asked. "Because from this end, it looks like you've got three dead bodies in the space of two days and you're coming up empty."

A small voice piped up in the back. "Er- three? I thought - ," whispered a woman who looked familiar. Where had he seen her before? The arrogant agent held up a hand to cut her off. She looked embarrassed, and fell silent.

Where his partner was all belligerence, the taller agent, Hooper, was all calmness and diplomacy. "Don't mind my partner," he said, stepping in quickly. "He's always a bit too blunt on an empty stomach. But he does have a point." His arms were out, palms open. "This is a tough case and three people have died already. If we want to find this killer, we'd do better to pool our resources."

Suddenly Tyrone remembered where he had met the young lady standing behind the two agents. "Rachelle!" he said. "You're the witness from the attack in the pool! Your name is Rachelle, right? What are you doing here?"

"I'm with Agents Brody and Hooper," she said. "I'm here as a material witness to Laura's murder." She had been watching the exchange with the detective and was a bit in awe of Sam's diplomatic wiles. _He could sweet-talk a lion out of its prey,_ she thought. She came out of her musings when the detective said, "You were so distraught that night. Understandably. Are these two giving you a hard time?"

"No, no, they just had a few more questions. I'm okay, really." Rachelle hoped it wouldn't seem strange for her to be hanging around with two FBI agents. _This detective seems a little too sharp,_ she thought. "I'm just hoping I can remember something to help you guys find whoever did this to Laura."

Rachelle's straight plea did the trick. Tyrone stared at her for a minute, then sighed, turning to Sam and Dean. "So what do you two need to know?"

Dean asked, "I understand you got the call about Dr. Jackson's death some time this morning?"

"That's right, about 8:40 am, from his secretary, Kathy Flint. She found the body when she came in to work."

"And the tank was closed?" Sam prompted.

"Locked tight from the outside, and no fingerprints on it but Dr. Jackson's. Whoever did this could have wiped the tank clean but I really don't see how they could have slipped Dr. Jackson into the tank to begin with... There just isn't enough room on top."

"Were there any signs of forced entry to Dr. Jackson's office?" Sam asked.

"No, nothing. Ms. Flint found the door open but there were no signs of breaking and entering."

"Was there anything odd about the room?" Dean asked.

"Odd? Odd how?"

"Lights flickering on and off weirdly, strange marks on the walls or floor, people behaving in unexpected ways..." Dean said.

Tyrone's look was puzzled. "No, nothing like that... Only, of course, the curious burns on Dr. Jackson's body and the mystery of how he got into the tank in the first place."

"We'd like to see the tank for ourselves," Sam said.

"I expected that. The tank is over in the evidence lockup. I'll have Lieutenant Appleman escort you."

The lieutenant led the three of them to the evidence lockup and left the room, waiting outside until they were done.

The boys and Rachelle stood around the tank, a man-sized glass case, the water inside now murky. The top was sealed with a heavy plastic cover that latched from the outside, with only a half inch of air space between the cover and the glass top in front. When Sam unlatched the cover, only part of it lifted up, leaving barely enough room to dip a vial into the water to scoop out a sample.

"Definitely no room to fall in from the top," said Dean. "And the cover was locked..."

"Trapping poor Dr. Jackson inside," Sam said.

Rachelle shivered. She could still remember watching Dr. Jackson wax poetic about his prized tropical fish in lectures on the biological aspects of psychology. "Killed by his own fish..." she whispered.

Sam came up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. She leaned against his solid bulk. But Dean just looked at her. "No," he said, "not by his fish. By something in the tank with him. It's gone now, whatever it was."

"The same thing that killed Laura in the pool." She nodded. "My friend. My professor. So how are we going to find this son-of-a-bitch?"

Sam smiled, a purposeful glint in his eye. "Research."

X X X

The names bothered Tyrone, and finally, he called them up on the computer. There was no Agent Brody or Hooper listed in the FBI database. Only then did he remember where he'd seen those names...

He raced to the evidence lockup but they were already long gone.

X X X

While Rachelle was finding her legs as a hunter, her friends were still immersed in the world of academia, a place with its own mysteries: lectures in large halls trying to catch the words of droning professors, reading assignments in tomes that were never meant to be understood by the human mind, tests that were either difficult to master (or unfairly graded) and life lived in the trenches with like-minded comrades struggling to gain knowledge.

Occasionally, though, one found a professor gifted in understanding and in teaching, and Amy had been lucky that year, finding Dr. Shaw, her anthropology teacher and mentor. For the last day she had been immersed in studying for a test, completely oblivious to the outside world.

She was sitting on the black futon sofa that was the centerpiece of their cramped dorm room, sipping a cup of tea, anthro notes on her lap, when Shawna burst into the room, her short red hair bouncing wildly. "Amy, did you hear about Rachelle?" said Shawna, secretly relishing the guilty pleasure of relating bad news and interesting gossip.

"What about Rachelle?" Amy looked up worriedly. She put the tea down on the coffee table.

"Remember that death we heard about last night, where some girl drowned in the pool?"

Amy nodded.

"That was Laura, Rachelle's swimming partner, and Rachelle was with her!"

"Oh my God, is Rachelle all right?" Amy got up from the couch, the whole pile of paper notes slipping to the floor, forgotten.

"I don't know. I heard she's fine physically but..."

"We've got to go see her!" Amy said. "She must be in terrible shock."

"Not only that," Shawna said, "this morning some girl found Dr. Jackson - you know, the head of the Psychology department, Rachelle's professor - dead in his fish tank!"

"Come on." Amy didn't even bother to pick up the papers. _They can wait,_ she thought. "Rachelle needs us."

X X X

"I don't know how you two do this," Rachelle said, picking at her turkey sandwich.

"Do what?" asked Dean, his mouth stuffed with the diner's Roast Beef Special, french fries and ketchup.

"Eat after seeing the bodies," she admitted.

Sam sighed. "I know what you mean. But you get used to it. Hazards of the job... "

For the next few minutes, the boys made short work of their food while Rachelle watched, picking at her sandwich. Dean put passion into everything he did, even his chewing, swallowing his food with glee, enjoying every bite. Sam was more methodical, thoughtful, biting and chewing carefully.

"You mind?" Dean looked up from his sandwich.

"Mind what?" she asked, jerked out of her thoughts.

"You always stare at people while they eat?"

"Only the ones who annoy me," she said.

Sam laughed. "She's got you there, bro."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

"So," Rachelle mused aloud, "Where to next? Do we interview Kathy?"

"Might be a good idea... Then we should go to the university library. Do they have good wireless here? I think we should start on the Net," said Sam.

"Are you kidding?" Rachelle laughed. "This is a university."

"Also, we need to have someone analyze these samples. Do you know a good chemistry professor?"

Dean, whose face had been slowly getting harder as the conversation went on, shook his head. "No way," he said. "You shouldn't be part of this, Rachelle. We're dropping you back at your house. Then Sam and I will go _alone_ to do the research."

Rachelle's mouth dropped open. _What the Hell? I thought he was past this phase!_

"Uh-uh." Rachelle shook her head emphatically. "Some thing, some monster, killed two people I cared about. I'm not just gonna stand by and let things be. This is my fight too!"

Dean leaned over the table, his eyes steely with determination. "Look, Rachelle, you did well, I'll grant you. But this is way too dangerous. This thing has attacked three people already..."

"Three people? There was one before Laura?" Rachelle demanded, "Why didn't you guys tell me?"

"There was a fisherman named Earl in the river near the university," Sam explained. "And it wasn't intentional, Rachelle. We're used to working alone." He looked pointedly at his brother. "And I think that's part of what this is about."

"You know that's not true, Sam," Dean looked exasperated. "Rachelle isn't a hunter. She doesn't have the training, the reflexes... She'll make mistakes."

"You're right," said Sam. "But she's already in danger. She's got the ring, and the ring is involved somehow. There's a reason she's here, Dean."

Dean just continued talking, as if sheer cussedness could win the argument. "Hell, she'll get shot, or this friggin thing will come at her and she'll freeze..." He looked about ready to shoot something himself.

It was like a tennis match, with the boys thinking of all sorts of reasons for and against Rachelle staying on the case.

Rachelle was getting more than a little annoyed at being talked about as if she wasn't there. "Uh, hello, guys... I'm here, you know!" she said pointedly, but they continued arguing and ignored her.

Then Sam mentioned the elephant in the room. "Besides," he pointed out, "without us, what chance does she have of getting back to her own world?"

In the sudden silence, Rachelle realized that she had not even thought of getting back home. She'd gotten so involved with the case, she'd only just got used to the idea that she was here at all. Hell, she was just getting to know the boys. She pushed the thought away. _Not ready to deal._

"You're forgetting something else," she pointed out. "This is my turf. I know the layout on campus, the school rules, the people... I know Kathy. _Battleaxe Kathy,_ they call her." She stared at them. "You need me."

Dean stared right back at her. A note of desperation crept into his voice. "Rachelle, listen to me. You don't _have_ to get drawn into this. Look what happened at the morgue. You still have a chance to walk away! You don't have to see things like..."

"Like my friend murdered right in front of me?" Rachelle asked quietly.

The boys stopped talking.

Rachelle continued. Now that she'd started, it seemed like she couldn't stop. "It happened, you know, and the funny thing is - I didn't see it. I didn't do anything. Because I was in that damn vortex!"

She pounded her fist on the table. "And maybe I could have!" Suddenly, she was angry. Angry at the vortex. Angry at the thing that had killed her friend and teacher. Angry at her own helplessness.

Sam shook his head. "No, Rachelle... You couldn't have. Any more than Dean and I could have saved our mother from burning."

Dean nodded. "He's right, Rachelle... You can't save the world, you know."

Rachelle giggled, a high-pitched laugh bordering on hysteria. "You, Dean Winchester, are telling me I can't save the world?"

The brothers stared at each other, baffled, as she put her head in her hands and laughed. She laughed and laughed for a good five minutes. Finally, she subsided, exhausted. Dean was giving her that look again.

"I'm not crazy!" she said. "It's called hysteria. You know, when you have a totally inappropriate response to a stressful situation."

"Do you feel better now," he asked, "because the geek-talk is a real turn-off."

"Jerk," she said. "Yes, I feel better now."

"Good, because we really do need to get going. If you're up to it, I'd like to interview that witness, Kathy, while it's still light."

And just like that, Rachelle found, she was in again. _Out again, in again. Winchesters_ , she thought. _Can't live without 'em. Can't understand 'em._

X X X


	6. Rising Tides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachelle and Dean get a little closer, while Sam hits the books.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by [mainegirlwrites](http://www.fanfiction.net/u/2822205/mainegirlwrites).

Rachelle felt her eyes droop. The soft snore of Dean Winchester on the motel bed behind her was lulling her to sleep. Sam sat across from her at a small table, the pine cone inspired lamp casting a small circle of light around them. Sam's fingers pattered gently on his laptop, the sound as soothing as raindrops on a window.

He stopped for a moment and cleared his throat. Rachelle's eyes flew open.

"Why don't you go lie down? I might be at this for awhile," Sam offered gently. Rachelle glanced drearily at her watch – which, if it was working properly, read 3 a.m. She nodded in agreement, and unsteadily rose from her chair and headed towards the empty bed.

" _Oh, what the hell,"_ she told herself, and glancing back at Sam who was already bent over his computer again, slid gently onto the bed next to Dean. He was still fully clothed in his good FBI clothes, jacket open, tie askew. She melded herself into the crook of his arm, her head nestling on his firm shoulder. He mumbled in his sleep and draped his arm loosely around her waist. He smelled like leather and gun powder.

" _If this is a dream, don't wake me...,"_ she thought before sleep overcame her.

XXX

_Rachelle leaned over the pond, its smooth surface reflecting perfectly. In the water, she saw an idyllic blue sky with puffy clouds. She gazed at her own reflection. She looked peaceful, happy. She smiled. But to her shock and surprise, out of the water suddenly burst a smooth, green hand with webbed fingers and claws. It grasped Rachelle's dangling necklace, pulling her down closer to the water. She couldn't scream. She could feel her fingers dig into the dirt of the pond's bank in her attempt to stay on land. Terror rose within her._

_"Let me have it," a voice said. "I need it."_

Rachelle sat upright in bed, a scream on the verge of her lips, her hand grasping her necklace.

"Well, gooood morning, sunshine!" Dean said, turning to pour her a cup of coffee. Rachelle gulped, attempting to wipe away the dream, but Sam's eyes were on her, studying her.

"You okay?"

"Sure, sure," Rachelle replied quickly. "Did you find anything online last night?"

Dean walked over to her with her coffee. "Are you kidding? Let's just say Sammy has a special relationship with that computer..."

"Not as special as your relationship with certain magazines...," Sam shot back. The brothers realized they were in the presence of a young lady and stopped themselves, wide grins spread across their faces.

"Anyway, here's what I found." Sam spun his laptop towards Rachelle. "I think we are dealing with a bagiennik, Rachelle. It's a water demon. Complete with acid-spraying glands between its eyes."

Rachelle squinted and peered at the picture. It showed a creature in a humanoid form, crouched and snarling. Its skin looked green and scaly, with webbed and clawed fingers and toes. Its eyes were wide and milky, its wide mouth fanged and gruesome-looking.

"Ugh," Rachelle responded. She shivered, still shaking off the dream. There was no doubt in her mind that it had been the bagiennik in her dream, clutching her necklace.

"Ah, just your standard creature from the Black Lagoon," Dean shrugged, heading for the shower. "Sammy, find out how to kill it." The door closed behind him and the sound of the shower started.

"Hey," Sam touched Rachelle's shoulder, steering her towards the end of the bed. "Are you okay?"

Rachelle looked at him, internally battling whether to tell him about the dream. She nodded abruptly.

"Okay," Sam replied, unconvinced. He snapped his laptop shut. "Let's head to the university. I need you to hook us up with someone to analyze our samples."

XXX

"Next time, call me, please!" Meredith admonished her friend. "I was so worried – you were gone all night!" Rachelle smiled at her friend.

"I'm so sorry, Mer," Rachelle replied. _I was just snuggling with Dean Winchester so I was a little preoccupied..._

"Well, all classes have been canceled for the whole week. Do you want to go out to lunch with Amy and Shawna?"

"Classes canceled – really?"

"Yeah, the campus is pretty much on lockdown," Meredith shrugged. "I guess it's for the best, until they figure out who's killing all these people."

"I have a few things to do...then, sure, lunch sounds great!" Rachelle attempted to sound enthusiastic, but she was torn between an attempt at normalcy...and well, hanging out with the Winchesters and aiding them with their hunt.

"I'll call you later," Rachelle assured her friend, as she headed out the door. Rachelle practically ran across the deserted campus to the building that housed Dr. Jackson's office. She was hoping to catch up with Kathy, Dr. Jackson's secretary, to see if she was alright. Then she wanted to head over to the chemistry lab to possibly find an intern to look at the Winchester's samples. Unfortunately, a police officer stood guard at the bottom of the wide stone stairs of the building, the yellow caution tape flapping in the breeze.

 _Of course,_ she admonished herself. _It's not like I could walk right in._ Rachelle kept walking, praying she didn't look suspicious. She almost tripped over Kathy, Dr. Jackson's secretary, who was laying a small bouquet of flowers on the steps.

"Kathy!" Rachelle and the secretary hugged. "I'm so sorry, Kathy. Poor Dr. Jackson - "

Kathy wiped a tear away and attempted to look stoic. She was, after all, _Battleaxe_ Kathy. She smiled weakly. "Thank you," she whispered hoarsely. "But I guess one good thing has come out of this."

"Really?"

"I have a date with a cute FBI agent," Kathy smiled and slowly pulled a business card out of her purse. "And what a cutie!" The business card read "Agent Brody."

Rachelle felt a slow slither of jealousy twist in her stomach. "Ha, that's great," Rachelle feigned. She knew Dean was probably only putting the moves on Kathy to get the information he needed from her, and most likely did not have any intention of ever calling the middle-aged secretary. But it must have taken some serious moves on Dean's part to break Kathy's armor-like exterior. Rachelle could almost see it in her mind – Dean pushing aside some papers on the secretary's desk to perch on it, Kathy frowning and attempting to keep the papers in order. He would have, of course, sympathized with the trauma of finding Dr. Jackson. But then Rachelle was sure he would have leaned in close to Kathy, winking and complimenting her on – _hm, what could he have complimented her on?_ \- as much as Rachelle adored Kathy, she was a Plain Jane who dressed like a JC Penny model. Maybe the hint of a date loosened her lips for any information Dean had needed.

Kathy rolled her eyes and smirked. "Did I mention he was _sooo_ cute?"

XXX

Sam clicked off his cell phone and looked at his brother. They were in the Impala, on their way to meet Rachelle at the campus chemistry lab.

"Bobby's looking into it," he said. "'Cause I just can't find anything on how to kill the damn thing."

Dean nodded in response.

"So...about Rachelle," Sam began.

"What about her?"

"I think there is something that she's not telling us," Sam replied. "She woke up from a nightmare this morning, I'm pretty sure. And it had to do with the ring. She was clutching it as if her life depended on it."

"Hm."

"She's pretty vulnerable, Dean. She's lost friends...and she's displaced. So..."

"So, what, Dr. Phil? You tellin' me to stay away from her?"

"Yeah, yeah, I guess I am."

Dean didn't reply, instead he only turned the Impala extra sharply into the parking lot, tossing Sam into the passenger door without warning. Sam mumbled some choice expletives but didn't comment out loud to his brother. Rachelle was sitting on a nearby bench, looking off into the distance. Her long blonde hair wound around one shoulder, and her hand stroked her necklace. The sound of Dean and Sam slamming the Impala's doors roused her from her musings, and she approached them with a smile. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Dean straighten his tie and grin at her.

"Whatcha got?" Dean greeted her. Rachelle told them she had found a chemistry intern who had been allowed to stay at the lab to finish up some of his research. He was willing to take a look at the samples for the FBI. Sam handed the vials to Dean, explaining he wanted to take a look around. Dean nodded and entered the building with Rachelle.

Sam turned and walked past several buildings to the edge of the campus. He briefly studied a trail map display, then followed one of the trails to the edge of a river. It was a wide, fast-flowing river, probably about forty feet across. Rocky outcroppings produced some areas of white water, but shallow, quiet pools were present along the edges. Sam scanned them, trained eyes looking for anything out of place. The young Winchester felt eyes upon him, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. With a practiced hand, he eased his handgun out of the back of his pants. Sam crept down closer to the edge of the river, searching for whatever it was that had activated his hunter's instincts.

Carefully, he hunched down, and dipped a finger into the quiet water that lapped against the bank.

"Sam!"

" _Jeez!"_ Sam stood up and turned, frowning at his grinning brother, standing on the rocky outcropping above him. "I could've shot you."

Rachelle appeared behind Dean, her eyes questioning. Sam held up his hand to show them what he had found.

"Pull my finger," Sam half-heartedly joked. It was covered with the same oily substance they had found in the pool.

XXX

Bobby sneezed, sending up a cloud of dust.

"Balls," he said aloud to no one. The book he had been examining was actually one he rarely looked at – hence, the dust. Sam and Dean had asked for information on a bagiennik, a rare type of water demon, and he thought there was some information about it in this book. And how to kill it. Bobby scanned the Latin text, translating easily, scribbling notes. When he reached the last paragraph, he paused, then read it again.

And again.

Then he quickly dialed the boys.

XXX

The boys had dropped Rachelle off to meet Meredith for lunch, and they were just sitting down to a meal themselves in their motel room when Bobby called. Dean put the call on speaker phone.

"Amethyst? Well, yeah, its purple," Dean answered him.

"There's an ancient legend," Bobby said. "Apparently some pirate stole a ring from these water demons, and its loss made their underwater world turn into a crapper. It's been this one demon's mission to recover the ring. And he's been trying to find it – for a very long time."

"Bobby, how long?"

"Three or four hundred years."

"Ouch," Dean replied. "I know I get pissed off when I lose something – this guy has got to be - "

The Winchesters looked at each other across the table, over their steaming hamburgers.

" - bonkers," Bobby finished for them.

"I was thinking _desperate_ , but yeah, 'bonkers' fits, too," Sam agreed.

"So how do we know this demon is the actual one looking for the ring?" Dean asked.

"Make sense," Bobby replied. "All this stuff has been happening around Rachelle, and you said she's got that funky necklace with the ring on it that is somehow connected. You boys need to find out where she got it. And for all we know, every other bagiennik is dead – probably they all died shortly after the ring was taken - but this one is dead set determined to find that ring. It's been keeping him going for all this time."

"Like his own little 'precious'," Sam mused.

"Great," Dean leaned back in his chair, hands on his head. "So we got a Gollum-flavored water demon – a regular creature double feature."

XXX

Shawna, Amy and Meredith chatted and laughed over lunch, and Rachelle attempted to join in. She wanted to hurry through the meal and meet up with the Winchesters again. And see Dean.

 _Yeah, I really want to see Dean,_ she had to admit to herself. There had been no words between them concerning her sleeping next to him last night, and it seemed like they didn't need to be said. Rachelle sighed dramatically.

All three of her friends stopped and looked at her.

"Oh, Rachelle, here we are, just having a good time, and you must be so sad," Amy reached across the table and held her friend's hand. "We are all so sorry about Laura, and Dr. Jackson."

"Thanks," Rachelle replied, swallowing the lump of guilt in her throat. She had been unconsciously focusing so hard on other things that the emotions over losing her dear swimming partner had been pushed down and away. Now the thought of Laura's death struck her hard. Tears welled up and spilled over. The three girls pulled themselves close to Rachelle in solidarity.

 _They may be my friends from another universe,_ thought Rachelle, _but they are still my friends._

The girls separated and began chatting again, hoping to raise Rachelle's spirits. As Rachelle sat back in her chair, she watched in stunned silence as their appearance changed. Though Rachelle could still see the shape of the girls' bodies, she could now see _inside_ their bodies. Amy picked up her sandwich and Rachelle watched in abject horror as her teeth tore the bread and meat, her jawbone chewing, the food being swallowed and sent down to her stomach past her beating heart.

The three now semi-transparent girls laughed together at a joke, bony hands clapping and eyes rolling in skulls. Rachelle clasped her ring in her hand and squeezed her eyes shut. Shawna put her hand on Rachelle's shoulder.

"Hon, are you okay? You look like you've just seen a ghost!"

Rachelle ventured a peek out of one eye. All of the girls' flesh had been thankfully restored.

"Ya – yes, I'm okay. Just tired. I think I'm going to leave, if that's okay," Rachelle stuttered. She managed some quick good-byes and stumbled out of the cafe. She was more than pleased to see a black Impala waiting outside for her.

She pulled open the passenger door and collapsed in the back seat. Dean eyed her in the rear-view mirror.

"Get me a drink," Rachelle croaked.

The Winchesters exchanged surprised glances.

"Finer words have never been spoken," replied Dean with a shrug, pulling away from the curb.

XXX

"Blow _again_!"

Rachelle stifled a giggle, attempting to purse her lips around the straw. She was blowing into the bar's countertop breathalyzer for the fourth time, aspiring to convince a very drunk Dean Winchester that she was, indeed, not intoxicated. Sam had his arms crossed and his forehead was crinkled in his trademark worried state. Sam had only had a beer or two, but Rachelle and Dean had gone shot for shot over several hours.

And Rachelle was still stone sober.

Dean leaned against the bar, and even though his green eyes were red-rimmed and unfocused, Rachelle still thought they were gorgeous. He leaned close to her, the smell of Johnnie Walker mixing intoxicatingly with his essence of leather and gunpowder.

"Dean Winchester," she declared with a smile. "I believe you are very drunk."

Dean held up a wavering finger. "I – I have never, ever, been out-drunk by a girl," he slurred. He went to place a casual hand on the bar, but missed it and ended up falling to the floor.

"Okay, that's it," declared the bartender, glaring at the trio.

"Gotcha," Sam said, recovering his chuckling brother from the floor.

"Out-drunk? Did I say _out-drunk_?"

Rachelle could barely help Sam guide Dean to the door, she was laughing so hard. They poured Dean into the back seat of the Impala and Sam started the engine. He placed the car in drive, then reconsidering, put it back into park and turned to Rachelle.

"Rachelle, is there something you are not telling me?" His bluntness didn't necessary catch her off guard. She knew he had his suspicions – after all, he was a Winchester.

Rachelle blew out her cheeks. "Yes," she admitted. She told him about her dreams, the fog of death she had witnessed at the coroner's, and the appearance of her girlfriends at the cafe today.

"...and I have never, ever drank that much in my life," she ended. "I think it has to do with this," she held up her necklace.

"Well, if what we think is true, it could be a very powerful object," Sam and Dean had filled her in on what they had learned from Bobby earlier that night. "Amethyst also has powers of clarity – helping you see things you wouldn't normally see. Maybe even helping you stay clear – apparently. I think it's why you didn't get drunk tonight."

Rachelle nodded sullenly. Here she had just been having a roaring good time with Dean, and Sam had the hunt on his mind the whole time. She felt foolish.

"I guess I haven't been very helpful," she admitted. "I'm sorry."

Sam waved her off and put the Impala in drive. "I think you are going to be very helpful, Rachelle. With any luck, we are going to kill that demon and get you back to your own universe. And we won't be able to do those things without you and your necklace. Can you tell me where you got it?"

Rachelle gazed out the window, looking but not seeing. "My Great Aunt Flo...she was what you'd call eccentric, I guess. Hell of a lady. So much fun." Rachelle closed her eyes for a moment, missing her dear aunt and wishing she were here. "She said it was from a distant ancestor that was a pirate...kinda silly, I know..."

She turned as Sam clamped his gaping mouth shut. "I don't think your aunt was too far off the mark, Rachelle. That pirate ancestor of yours somehow stole that ring from this creature's world, and he wants it back."

Rachelle sucked in her breath sharply. Sam glanced at her and continued.

"I'll drop you off at home, but I'm going to stay up and keep watch outside your house. I think I have a plan for tomorrow – but you are going to need a good night of sleep."

Rachelle sat quietly while Sam drove. A sudden thought shook her to the core. _Do I even want to go back to my own universe?_

Dean snored abruptly in the back seat and Rachelle sighed and smiled to herself, shaking her head.

_….because where else would I dream of taking advantage of a drunk Dean Winchester?_

_X X X_


	7. Flushed Down the Rabbit Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baiting a monster is never easy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by [Wynefred](http://www.fanfiction.net/u/2180176/Wynefred).

Detective Tyrone McFarling waited in the darkness of his car in front of Rachelle's house. Officially she might just be a witness to one of the murders, but his gut was telling him there was more to this. He hadn't been in law enforcement this long without learning to trust his instincts.

He'd been staking out the house on his own time after a frustrating afternoon on the phone with the FBI. Following protocol, he'd called in his suspicions only to be stonewalled by every administrative assistant and phone clerk in the Federal government. When he'd finally been transferred to someone in authority, the condescending jerk was less than helpful.

_"Thank you for bringing this to our attention, Detective. All my agents are currently tied up in other projects, but we'll be sure to look into this as soon as possible."_

_"You're not sending someone out immediately? These guys could disappear again any time."_

_"Detective McFarland..."_

_"McFarling."_

_"Whatever. Look, Detective, do you know how many people try to impersonate us? We're the friggin' FBI, for crying out loud! I can't just take someone off an important assignment to deal with some two-bit imposters on a crazy case in Podunk, USA."_

_"We're hardly Podunk, sir."_

_"And this is hardly a case of national security. The whole thing sounds a bit wackadoodle to me. Burning water? I tell you what. You apprehend these dangerous criminals and I'll be happy to lock them away in a dark cell for the rest of their natural lives. Deal?"_

The resounding click as the line disconnected caused Tyrone's ears to ring for several minutes. If the FBI wanted him to apprehend these bozos, fine, that's exactly what he'd do.

His vigilance was rewarded when a sleek black classic car pulled up in front of Rachelle's home. That car presented even more proof that these two clowns were not the FBI agents they claimed to be. The Federal government would never spring for a beauty like that.

The taller "Agent Hooper" sat behind the wheel, Rachelle beside him, but there was no sign of the other man, "Agent Brody". After only a few moments of conversation with the driver, Rachelle exited the vehicle and entered the house. Tyrone turned on his engine, intending to follow the black sedan. However, the driver parked the vehicle across the street where he would have a clear view of the house.

Tyrone groaned to himself when he realized the driver looked to be staying a while. The detective settled in for a long wait.

X X X

Rachelle said her goodbyes to Sam and gave the sleeping Dean a last lingering look before exiting the car. She was comforted to know that the brothers would stay just outside, watching over her as she slept. She knew about their protective nature from the show. In fact, several episodes ran through her head as examples of the boys' protective nature: _Wendigo_ , _Dead in the Water_ , _Bloody Mary_ , _Hook Man_ , and on and on. In practically every episode, the boys went out of their way to protect the people around them. It was one thing to see it on a TV show and quite another to be the object of their attention.

Their care of her made Rachelle feel safeguarded and treasured. She was amazed at the idea that she'd become friends with Sam and Dean Winchester. Of course, since they were fictional characters back home, she normally wouldn't even have considered it... outside of fanfiction, that is. She entertained the idea of staying in this universe and joining the brothers. She was sure that fans of the show would never approve of a female tagging along, but this wasn't the show. This was real. She found the thought of hunting with the brothers in this universe very appealing.

Smiling at herself for the outrageous notion, Rachelle slipped her key in the lock. She noticed by the lights on in the house that Meredith and Alex were home. She longed to talk to Mer, to confide in her about everything that had happened, but she wasn't sure how the Meredith in this universe would handle the information.

Rachelle began preparing for bed when she heard a knock on her door. She opened it to find Mer standing in the glow of the porch light, so she waved her friend in.

"Hey, Mer. What's up?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"What do you mean?" Rachelle put on an innocent face.

"Rachelle, I'm worried about you. You're not acting like yourself."

Rachelle snorted. "You have no idea."

"It's just... you were really distracted at lunch today, you're staying out late... didn't even come home last night... and with no explanation about where you've been. That's just not like you! And you've been hanging out with those strange guys. Are they the reason you're not coming home at night? You're not getting into anything... foolish, are you?"

Rachelle sighed, debating inwardly for a moment before deciding to take a chance. "Sit down, Mer. We need to talk."

Meredith sat down on one end of the ugly plaid couch, her eyes wide with concern as she watched her friend. Rachelle sat beside her. "This is going to sound crazy," she began hesitantly.

"Whatever it is, Rachelle, I'm here for you." Mer spoke softly, placing a comforting hand on Rachelle's arm. The familiar touch caused Rachelle's eyes to burn with unshed tears. She hadn't even realized until this moment how much she'd missed her friend during this extraordinary experience.

"That day... or night, rather... when Laura died... I went to the pool with you, not with Laura."

"What are you talking about?"

"I went with you, Mer. Laura was busy, she canceled on me, so I asked you to come with me."

"You said something that night, but I thought you were just in shock."

"I wasn't in shock... well, I was, I guess, but... I meant what I said. You went with me. I went to the pool with you, but something happened and when I came out, it was Laura. I got caught in a vortex that pulled me through to another universe."

"What?" Mer stiffened, her eyes wary.

"It's true, Mer. You have to believe me. I'm not your Rachelle. I'm from a different universe. My ring..." Rachelle touched the ring where it hung on its chain, "my ring activated a vortex that pulled me here. It's special, a pirate's ring. We think it was stolen from a creature and now that creature, a water demon, is killing people to get it back. We're trying to stop it."

"We?"

"Those guys you met? They're hunters. Demon hunters."

"Stop!" Meredith grabbed her friend's hands, her voice pleading. "Sweetie, this is crazy. You can't possibly believe all this. You're under a lot of stress right now... Laura's death and then Dr. Jackson. You just need to get a good night's sleep, that's all."

Rachelle regarded her friend sadly. Obviously, this Meredith wasn't able to handle the truth. Rachelle patted her friend's hands before standing. "You're probably right. I'm just tired. If you don't mind, I'd like to get some sleep now, Mer."

Meredith stood, again placing a hand on Rachelle's arm, but this time the touch held no comfort. In her mind, Rachelle saw an image of Mer desperately locking Rachelle up in a softly-padded but impenetrable box, as if Meredith was keeping her friend safely locked away from the craziness around her. Unfortunately, Rachelle felt incredibly lonely and trapped in the tiny space. Then the image was gone, the phrase "the more you wear it, the more you'll see" echoing through her head, and Meredith watching her sadly. Rachelle tried to smile reassuringly, but knew she wasn't convincing. Meredith gave her friend a long, concerned look before she left.

Rachelle closed the door behind her and leaned her forehead against the smooth wood, sorting her jumbled emotions. Despite the tragedy of Laura's death, Rachelle knew she was enjoying her time in this universe where Dean and Sam were real people who cared about her. At the same time, she ached for her Mer, wishing she could share her experiences with her friend. _If only she could have both._

X X X

Sam sat in the dark Impala, watching the equally dark home where Rachelle slept. The lights had gone out in Rachelle's part of the house several hours ago and her roommates' lights followed soon after. The minutes ticked by quietly, punctuated by the sound of Dean's soft snoring from the back seat. Sam passed the time searching the internet from his phone.

A change in Dean's breathing announced that he would be waking soon. He shifted and stretched, moaning as he sat up. He looked around, rubbing his face with his hands. "Sam? What're we doing here?"

Sam responded without looking up from his phone. " _I'm_ watching Rachelle's place to make sure she's okay. _You're_ doing the sleep of shame."

"What? No I'm not."

"You so are! A girl drank you under the table, dude."

Dean looked about to protest but changed his mind. "She did, didn't she? No one's ever done that before... no girl, at least."

Sam glanced back at his brother, whose eyes gleamed with admiration. "No, Dean."

"No, what, Sammy?"

"You know what. No. N.O. You can't get involved with her."

"Aw, come on, Sammy. She's a fan, right? I think she would really _appreciate_ a little attention from me." Dean smirked lustily, but sighed in the face of Sam's fierce frown. "Yeah, I know. But she's still kinda cool."

"Heh. Yeah, she is. In fairness, though, I think she had help." At Dean's quizzical look, Sam continued. "The amethyst in the pirate's ring."

"Clarity... right. Well, that's as good a theory as any, I guess. Did you find anything on how to kill this sonuvabitch?"

"There's really not a lot of information out there on this thing. I talked to Bobby. He thinks he's got a lead on a book that might help."

"So we've got nothing. Terrific."

"Not exactly. I found a legend about a similar water demon. It said the creature was killed by stabbing it in the eye."

"How the hell are we supposed to do that? Wade around in the water and hope the thing attacks?"

"Well, I'm assuming it just means that its eyes are vulnerable spots."

"Which means we might be able to gank it with a bullet? I'm up for that."

"Good. Oh, and we've got company." Sam indicated the sedan parked across the street, a shadowed figure sitting in the driver's seat.

"Any idea who it is?"

"I think it's that detective we met."

"Friggin' awesome. Now what?"

"Now switch seats with me. You're taking the next shift."

"Fine." Dean stretched as he stood from the back seat. "But you owe me a coffee, and not one of those sissy things you drink."

Sam chuckled. "Sure Dean. I'll be sure to ask the barista for a manly cup of joe."

X X X

_Rachelle's face reflected up from the smooth surface of the water. She recognized the pond; she'd been here before. She looked away from the water, awed by the breathtaking sight of blue sky and soft, puffy clouds, tree branches draping lovingly across the water's edge, sunlight filtering through green leaves, and pollen shimmering as it danced in the sunbeams._

_Returning her eyes to the water, she smiled at her own reflection. Her shining eyes greeted her. The ring dangled heavily from the chain around her neck. Suddenly, the eyes looking back at her changed, morphed into something hideous and angry. Gasping, she startled back in surprise. A green hand with webbed fingers and claws shot out, breaking the water's smooth surface to latch onto Rachelle's necklace and pull her toward the water. Her scream became muffled as the water rushed around her, filling her mouth. Terror swallowed her as the water enveloped her. She struggled fiercely and..._

...bolted upright in her bed, her hand flying to her necklace, a scream choking against her throat. Rachelle's heart thudded in her chest and her hands shook. She rose, heading to the bathroom for a glass of water, and tried to quiet her nerves.

On her way back to the bed, she crossed to the window. Pulling the curtain aside, she was reassured to see the Impala glinting under the light of a nearby street lamp.

Reminding herself that she was safe with the boys right outside, she made herself lie down in her bed and relax. She finally fell into a fitful sleep, rising at dawn feeling worse than when she'd first turned in for the night.

X X X

Dean woke Sam again shortly before dawn. He'd lasted as long as he could, but his eyes were starting to close against his will. Sam hadn't been awake for long when movement in Rachelle's house caught his attention. Lights came on and her shadowed form could be seen moving around. It didn't take her long to come out her door, sprinting across the dimly-lit street and slipping into the passenger seat. She greeted Sam with a tired smile and passed him a large thermos of coffee, keeping a smaller travel cup of coffee for herself.

"Strong?" Sam asked.

"Of course."

"Thank God! Hand it over." Voice scratchy from not enough sleep, Dean sat up in the back seat, waving his hands in a "gimme" gesture.

"So what's the plan today?" Rachelle asked, suppressing a grin at Dean's noises of appreciation over the coffee.

Sam turned in the seat to face Rachelle, giving her his full, earnest attention. "I think we need to draw this thing out before it kills again."

"How're we gonna do that?" Rachelle asked, sipping from her cup.

"Your ring should draw it, especially if it's near the water." Sam speculated, his forehead wrinkling in concern. "This could be really dangerous for you, Rachelle."

"Wait, Sammy, are you suggesting we use Rachelle as bait? That's usually my line, dude."

"Yeah, I know, but I don't see that we have any other choice, Dean."

"I hear ya, I'm just surprised." Dean responded.

"Hey, guys, remember me? The bait?" Rachelle's voice was high with tension. She trusted these men more than almost anyone she could think of, but the idea of reliving her nightmares... for real... was frightening.

Sam continued, his voice thick with concern, "Look, Rachelle, I don't like the idea any more than you do, but..."

"I know," she interrupted, "people could die. Like Laura and Dr. Jackson." She paused, looking off into the distance as she weighed her decision. Nodding to herself, she turned to Sam and Dean, her eyes locking on Dean's as she gave her answer to the brothers. "It's like you said, Sam. We really don't have any other choice." Dean smiled sadly at her, then turned to his brother as they held a brief non-verbal conversation.

"Alright, then let's get going. And Sammy... I'm driving."

X X X

The long night was a difficult one for Detective Tyrone. He hadn't gotten enough sleep to prepare for an all-night stakeout, and he might've nodded off a time or two during the endless vigil. But it wasn't like anything happened. The men changed seats in the car a couple of times, but otherwise everything was quiet.

Just after dawn, the witness, Rachelle, slipped from her house and into the black vehicle. Suddenly alert at her appearance, Tyrone sat up in his seat, stretching the kinks from his back and neck. The car's occupants seemed engrossed in conversation for a few minutes before pulling out and heading down the street.

Convinced that his diligence would be rewarded with the proof he'd been looking for, Tyrone followed at a discreet distance.

X X X

"Tell me again why we're coming out here at the butt-crack of dawn before I've even had breakfast," Dean complained to Sam as they trudged through the forest to the river's edge where the first victim had been found. He and Sam were both armed with wrought iron rounds... consecrated wrought iron, just in case.

"Because the pool on campus is too public. We can't risk anyone seeing us, Dean." Sam replied, then stretched his stride, taking point.

"Still doesn't explain why we couldn't have breakfast first," Dean grumbled. Rachelle gave him a sympathetic smile before following Sam.

When they reached the river, Sam turned to Rachelle, "Just go out a couple of feet, okay? We're right here. We'll keep you safe."

Rachelle didn't trust herself to speak so she just nodded. She slipped her sneakers from her feet and stepped out into the water.

X X X

Tyrone hid in the underbrush, watching the girl wade into the water. He had no idea what these jokers were doing but he didn't like it. Not one little bit.

He readied his weapon, prepared to charge out if necessary.

X X X

Nothing happened. Rachelle felt torn between feeling relief and wariness that the creature hadn't shown itself yet. She turned back to Sam and Dean, raising her hands in question. Sam shouted, "Try dipping your ring in the water!" She heard him say in an aside to Dean, "Maybe the ring works like a beacon to the creature, enhanced by proximity to the water."

She didn't hear Dean's response, but she was sure it was something sarcastic and witty, hiding his worry.

Rachelle took the chain from her neck and dipped the ring into the water. She immediately felt a surge of power emanate from the ring. She quickly returned the chain to its place around her neck. She had a moment to wonder why she hadn't felt anything like it when she went swimming that fateful evening (was it really just a few days ago?) before she sensed a presence in the water around her. Her last thought before the now-familiar green arm reached out to her was that she should've told the boys about her dream.

She didn't even have time to scream before the creature pulled her under.

X X X

Tyrone saw the girl go down, pulled into the water by... well, he couldn't say exactly what he saw, it had happened so quickly. He charged out, gun raised, and joined the two men at the river's edge. All three men aimed their weapons toward the river but held their fire. The girl was nowhere to be seen. He could've sworn the water she'd been standing in only came to just above her ankles, but there was no sign of her in the rippling water.

Suddenly, Rachelle appeared above the surface for a moment, several yards upstream and near the center of the river. Something... else... emerged with her, its arms holding her as she flailed and kicked. The spunky girl seemed to be giving the creature hell. He felt admiration for her as he joined the two men in pumping lead at the creature, carefully avoiding the flailing girl.

The creature suddenly released its victim and the two men rushed out into the water to help her. Tyrone watched as they took the girl between them in their arms and swam back to shore. He could hear her reassuring the men as they got to the shallow edge. "I'm okay, guys. Really."

Both men inspected her closely. "Looks like you were singed a bit. We'll need to treat that, Rachelle," the taller man told her.

The shorter man turned to Tyrone, anger flashing in his eyes."What the hell are you doing here?" The man demanded.

Tyrone could only stare, shock and horror chilling his bones. He'd seen a lot of crap in his days on the force, but nothing compared to this. He managed to stumble out, "What... what was that?"

"Well, Alice, you just fell down the rabbit hole. But I promise you, _that_ was no Cheshire cat."

X X X


	8. Drowning in Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bagiennik's work is never done...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by [The Ymp](http://www.fanfiction.net/u/2782635/TheYmp).

Tyrone stood staring back at the three people in front of him. His mind was blank with shock; he just hoped they couldn't see how badly he was shaking. He'd seen terrible things in his life as a detective, but nothing that had so thrown his worldview into turmoil. He did what he always did when his life became complicated: stay focused on the job. The first thing was to get the victim to safety. Unfortunately for him, she wasn't so amenable.

Rachelle had argued that she didn't want to go back home, as she was sure her housemates would freak out even more. Sam and Dean, as they now introduced themselves, looked at each other and seemed to somehow silently agree that they'd go back to their motel.

"Not the 'Sleep Easy' over on 5th?" asked Tyrone, unable to hide his obvious distaste, and he chuckled when they nodded. "That ol' roach pit? Boy, they must have been overjoyed when you two pitched up to have a customer who doesn't pay by the hour!"

He decided he was going to have to take a chance with these people, plus he was reluctant to let them out of his sight. There was obviously more here than first met the eye. He sighed long and heavy in irritation. If mysterious murders and FBI impersonation was just the start, then what else was he going to find out when he started to dig a little deeper?

"Listen, it's not much, but you're welcome to come back to my place. I can loan you the use of a dryer, plus I'm not done with questioning you yet," he added.

X X X

Tyrone led the way from his car, his mind still spinning from the 'full and honest' explanation he'd got from his new companions, his wet shoes squelching up the path as he let them into his small, shabby looking house.

"You'll have to excuse the mess," he said, tipping a large, haphazard pile of papers onto the floor to make room on the sofa, "It's the maid's year off."

He left the others in the living room and returned a moment later with a pile of clothes and towels. "Here, I've got a guest robe," he said to Rachelle, handing her a large, blue cotton dressing gown.

"Don't worry, it _is_ clean! I don't exactly do much entertaining, as you can probably see," he laughed at her expression, while gesturing to the poor standard of tidiness of the rest of the house.

He handed Dean a gray sweatshirt and pants, "These might be a little tight in the shoulder, but they should still fit."

He gave Sam a little embarrassed smile, "Sorry, I don't think I have anything in your size..."

He stood watching them as they each disappeared one-by-one into the bathroom to change, before he loaded their clothes into the dryer. He was a good study of human behavior; it was what made him a good cop. He noted with interest the way Dean and Rachelle seemed to dance around each other, there was a clear attraction there and he wondered if they were on their way to becoming an established couple. He'd determined the Winchesters had only recently blown into town, but there was a strange familiarity between Dean and Rachelle, as if they already knew each other well.

Tyrone noticed with slight indignation that Dean had already liberated a medkit from the bathroom and had motioned Rachelle to sit on the nearby sofa. With a look of absolute, focused concentration, Dean tenderly tucked a lock of Rachelle's long blonde hair behind her ears and started treating the minor burns on the side of her face. "There, all done," said Dean at last, in a voice that sounded rougher than usual. Rachelle mutely nodded her thanks, her cheeks almost scarlet. _Ah, not a couple_ _ **yet**_ , thought Tyrone, feeling like he was intruding in his own living room.

He glanced over at Sam, mildly amused by the large man's apparent embarrassment to be sitting near-naked in a stranger's home. The towel draped around Sam's shoulders slipped and Tyrone couldn't help but notice how badly scarred the man's body was. He wondered what sort of life would lead to such markings on someone not that much younger than himself, but who still seemed so kind and gentle. Tyrone had appreciated how, during their journey, Sam had gone out of his way to explain things and to reassure him and make him feel comfortable, whereas he had a nasty feeling that Dean might just have slit his throat, and _then_ felt guilty about, if it meant protecting his companions.

He accidentally caught eye contact as Sam looked up and Tyrone looked away suddenly, now embarrassed himself to have been caught staring. It all became crushingly real to him, and added weight to the brief summary the Winchesters had given him earlier in the car.

"This is real, isn't it? That thing killed those people, but no one's ever going to believe me. They'll think I've lost my mind. Hell, _I_ think I've lost mind," said Tyrone slowly, as he tried to come to terms with this sudden epiphany.

"Now do you see why we're trying to keep it all on the down low? It's not exactly something you go about shouting from the rooftop, is it? People just think you're crazy, plus it tends to warn the bad things that we're coming for 'em. And seriously? They don't need the advantage," Dean ranted.

Tyrone started to interject, "But surely the authorities could intervene..."

Sam put his serious expression on, "People in the past who tried to go public have tended to have sudden and usually fatal accidents." He traded a significant look with his brother, "There's a common belief among hunters that there are some _very_ powerful things out there that most definitely want to keep the _status quo_."

"I'm more a Pink Floyd man myself," quipped Dean, grinning appreciatively at Rachelle who chuckled at the joke, while Sam just rolled his eyes.

"So what, you think this creature's after Rachelle's ring?" asked Tyrone.

"That certainly appears to be the case, and it all seems to make sense. The first killing was probably an accident, the creature got caught in the guy's line while it's swimming towards the campus just around the time Rachelle starts wearing the ring. Then the other two are people that Rachelle's been in recent contact with," Sam answered.

"So why don't we just let him have it?" suggested Tyrone, playing devil's advocate. He always liked to look at all the angles; he found that understanding a perp's motivation was usually the first step to catching them.

Dean blinked at him before cutting in with a harsh, sarcastic response, "I'm sorry, I must be confused. You know, the bit where your job was to stop crime and keep people safe."

"Dean," Sam called gently, pleading for a little more understanding, "It's a question that needs to be asked. What is the ring, and more importantly what's gonna happen if this thing does get its claws on it?"

Dean nodded, and cast an apologetic look toward Tyrone, "Okay, so it _could_ be benign, but come on, let's face it, there's more things that eat other things than don't."

Rachelle could barely contain herself, "This creature's killed three people already, _that we know about,_ and tonight it tried to kill me, too. Are you _really_ willing to gamble on this thing's good intentions for something that it clearly wants so desperately?"

The room fell silent as that thought sank in.

X X X

The creature stood outside in the rain, a lone figure watching from his hidden position. He rubbed absently at the cluster of small bruises on his chest that were the sum total of all the damage he had sustained from the gun fire earlier that afternoon. Although he hadn't suffered any lasting damage, it had still _hurt_. He'd never been shot at before and so, startled, he'd fled under the continuing barrage. It was just good fortune that he hadn't got hit in the eye. _It's about time my luck should change_ , he thought.

He was close, so close now he could almost taste it. He had made many mistakes in going for the others, but he had forgotten himself in his overwhelming desperation for this to all be over - he had forgotten how strong he was and, for all their hideous ferociousness, what terribly fragile creatures humans were. But this time it was different, he'd seen this same human in several places he'd been now – it just had to be the right one this time, it _had_ to be.

The men in the black car were becoming a problem. He didn't like the big one, truth was he was scared of him, if not outright terrified. It wasn't just the great height, the human had a taint of the _ancient ones_ about him that _seemed_ dormant, but could explode at any time. It reminded him of the time he'd swum past an underwater vent from an inactive volcano; there was hardly anything there to see to the eye, but the water still had an acrid taste that had stuck in the back of his gills nonetheless.

He decided he would come back once they had gone. _Everyone goes, given enough time_. He could wait, he was patient. It wasn't like he hadn't had the practice.

XXX

Ryba moved around her apartment with the confident movements of one long accustomed to her environment; she might be blind but she knew every inch of her surroundings. She heard her tenant come in through the backdoor, which in itself was unusual. Henri Fischer was such a considerate young man, a God-send to a lonely old woman, but he was a shy, quiet one and he didn't usually let the screen door bang like that that.

"Is that you, Henri?" she knew it was, but she could tell from the heaviness of his tread that something was bothering him.

"I have had a... bad day, Mrs. Bouřková," he said in his heavily accented English.

"Bah, how many times must I tell you to call me Ryba? Now tell me what is wrong, perhaps I can help?" Ryba knew she shouldn't interfere in her lodger's life, but her mothering instinct was only strengthened by the sound of the language of her long-ago childhood.

"Mrs... _Ryba_ , it is complicated... there are things I must do for my family back home that... do not sit well with me."

"Well you must do as you see fit, Henri. You are a good boy, I'm sure you will do the right thing."

"I'm not so sure I deserve you to have such faith in me," Henri said in a quiet voice so full of sadness that Ryba could practically feel her heart break.

"You and I are of the old country, Henri; this land has been good to us, but their ways are not our ways," she smiled, wanting to reassure him, thinking fondly of how her head had been turned all those years ago by her young GI husband, and the culture shock that had awaited her when she'd first come to the United States after the end of the war.  
"I know a kind soul when I meet one," she added, patting him in a gentle, reassuring manner on the shoulder.

"Goodness Henri, you're freezing! It's a wonder you don't catch your death of cold," she laughed.

"Now, please help a poor, old woman. I've put my comb down and can't find it anywhere..."

Henri's green scaled face stretched in a broad grin showing wickedly sharp teeth that his landlady couldn't see as he helped her look for her lost item. For a few brief moments he enjoyed being Henri the lodger and not Henri the 'Burning Waters' killer, but then the waves of guilt came crashing in and he despaired at how low he had been brought down from the great promise of his childhood...

X X X

Henri the bagiennik was the eldest of his pod and, when the time came for him to swim into the waters of adulthood, by far the strongest. So when the summons came from the great Queen Wąda, the Lady of the Lakes, the pride for both him and his family was overwhelming and the anxiety to impress made his fins quiver with nervous anticipation.

That excitement faded, to be replaced with shock, when he swam through the underwater fields and meadows of sea grasses on the way to his ruler. He had not been back here since he'd been a hatchling. Much of the area he remembered as being of luscious green and blues were now yellowing with sickness or dark brown and dead.  
He finally arrived in a series of intricately manicured lawns more in keeping with the lush green leaves that he recalled from his childhood. He was greeted by the phalanx of heavily armored crustacean guards, who were to escort him the final yards into the presence of the Queen of the Underwater Lawns.

He grinned with a mouthful of razor sharp teeth at the sight of the young ones fleeing from him in terror and hiding in among the grasses. When he arrived in Wąda's presence he felt that terror himself, and he was careful to keep his eyes averted from her magnificence. He willed himself to avoid making any sudden jerky motions, and he had to fight his body's impulse to emit protective oil from the glands in his nostrils. The last thing he needed was to project the image of prey; he was hoping to secure his future, not to end up as lunch for royalty.

"Come no further," the commanding voice of his Lady intoned, dismissing the guards in an unusual breach of protocol, "No male, even one as young as you, may come any further into the spawning grounds," she explained.

His body quivered as Wąda ran a long, dagger-like claw up his neck to lift his chin so she could inspect his face. "I remembered you were a beautiful child, you've grown even more handsome," she sighed, "Most pleasing for these old eyes."

Henri tried not to gasp at the sight of his queen as, like the sea grass fields surrounding her lair, Wąda's once beautiful, glittering scales were no longer the verdant green of her youth. Instead she appeared mottled, maybe even diseased.

"Yes," she hissed, "I am dying, like my domain around me. For all our sakes you must retrieve for me what once was mine."

She placed a necklace with a gem setting around his neck. "The more you wear it, the more you'll see," she intoned as her purple eyes burned into his mind with their intensity. "I dreamt that you would travel far, and that you are the only one who can save us all. All you need do is place the gems together and I will take care of the rest."  
She turned, trying to hide her physical discomfort as her attendants returned, "Now go, _quickly_ , the feeding frenzy is almost upon me."

X X X

Henri was so miserable; he hated being alone.

He hated the humans with their casual destruction of their habitat, their poisons and effluent they unleashed in the water that sapped the oxygen and destroyed the wildlife. He hated the way they bred copiously despite the lack of effective predators. _They're disgusting; they don't even eat their own young to weed out the weaklings_.

Oh, and the smell! Their stench was truly indescribable with their weird warm bodies and bizarre patches of fur - in some ways the fact that they looked a little like bagiennik made it worse, like they were some sort of grotesque mockery.

As if the smell of one wasn't enough, they tended to congregate in great shoals, fighting and arguing and destroying everything around them. He hated having to be so near to them; every bagiennik hatchling was raised with the warning that human teeth might be ridiculously blunt, but they were disease-ridden and held deadly poison that could kill with a single bite.

He'd remembered watching in relief as the plague had swept through their ranks, as whole swathes of humanity perished due to their dirty water and bite of a tiny flea. But even that they had recovered from, like the unstoppable swarm they were.

Thanks to the companion ring Lady Wąda had given him, sometimes he could sense the faintest of impressions of the missing ring as it passed from hand to hand, but he could only really sense it when it was worn. A couple of times he got so close to where he _knew_ it was, but when he arrived it was nowhere to be found. Often the location would be subtly different from the vision he had of it. It was a testimony to the strength of faith that Wąda's subjects had in her, that he continued to believe in what she had told him. But slowly, over time, doubt slipped in.

One day, after many years of fruitless searching without even a faintest ghost of a whisper of a sense of the ring, he felt a call from half a world away.

The journey would be a long one, the exact distance was well beyond his ability to comprehend and not one that he was confident that he would survive. He was certain that it was one he would not be coming back from.

Frankly, the thought of such a journey filled him with terror. Only his love for his people and devotion to his queen gave him the drive to attempt such a feat of swimming endurance. If this was going to be his final act, he needed to see his family one last time.

X X X

Henri was shocked at his return to the land of the underwater lawns. This wasn't the first time he had traveled home for a brief rest, but the frequency had decreased and the time elapsed between each visit had increased when he saw the depth of desperation in the faces of his people and the dwindling size of the spawning grounds.

This time he returned to find his way blocked by Wąda's guards. "Focus, Henri," the Queen's words, sent psychically from a distance, pierced through his brain, causing him pain. "Seek what is lost!" she said in a gentler tone, although it still carried the weight of an order.

The guards had reluctantly relented only after he'd refused to leave before being granted an audience with the queen. "Please," he'd begged Lady Wąda, "just let me rest here for a little while. I miss my pod."

"You are not to return until you have the gem," she commanded, her voice as cold as the sea now surrounding them.

Henri wept bitter, oily tears of grief, but turned and left as he was ordered.

X X X

Thinking that Henri was out of hearing range, Wąda turned to her advisor and they shared a look. "It's for the best," her advisor tried to reassure the queen.

"What, to make him think I would deny him the comfort of his family, or that I didn't tell him that they're already dead?" she snorted.

X X X

Henri had given up a long time ago. He'd fled to the new world, an ocean away from his former life.

The going had been long and hard beyond anything even his worst fears had imagined. There were many times when he was sure he was going to die, and only the thought of his people and the memory of his family kept him going.

He couldn't face the prospect of having made the journey in error, or even of traveling back if he was successful.

All bagiennik had a sense of connection to Wąda - a sense of belonging, if not a method of communication. Henri had heard dark stories of Wąda using this like a leash to drag the recalcitrant back to her command, although he hoped they weren't true. But it seemed Wąda's influence simply didn't extend to the new world.

 _I'm so tired of this endless searching_ , he thought. By rights he should have maintained a hold on his own area of swampland, somewhere suitable for initiating the lengthy courtship rituals of his people.

 _Too late._ He was well past his prime now.

Just as he was a day away from approaching land, he felt the slight trace of the ring fade and die. He could have wept a quantity of tears to rival the mighty ocean he swam through. He had to fight the overpowering temptation to just give up and sink to the bottom of the ocean forever.

As he'd swum into the harbor he'd looked up in awe at the gigantic statue that stood guard over this new land, guiding the lost and the disposed into the promise of a new life. This guardian had come from not so far away from his own homeland. Holding a mighty flaming torch defiantly above her head, with the array of spikes around her head and skin the color of sea grass she was a vision of a great protector. _A great warrior-queen, fit for a new world_ , he thought, _At last... I'm home_.

Wandering from the water into the darkness of the evening it was a simple matter to avoid the guards posted around the port.

X X X

For a long time he searched, but he never sensed the ring again. For many long years he tracked across the huge land he found himself in. He marveled at the great wonders he saw, both natural and man-made. Humanity continued to grow in numbers and he found himself increasingly curious about them.

The gem he wore allowed him to confuse people's minds into thinking he was human for short periods, so long as they were distracted and didn't look at him too closely. Often he was mistaken for an immigrant fresh from the boat. He laughed long and loud the first time someone described him as 'wet behind the ears'. There were even some people from the old country here, although his command of English was already quite good, but in the main he shunned contact and kept to himself.

Then one day he felt the call of the ring. It was stronger and more immediate than it had ever been before. In his desperation to get to the source, he got snarled in a fishing line, an embarrassment to the very core of his bagiennik soul. As before, he couldn't locate the ring, but this time, at least, it seemed to stay in the same general area. In the end he found lodging with the odd, but kind Mrs. Bouřková, to be closer to the visions.

Then one night the vortex had appeared and he knew that his inevitable fate had finally found him. He would either retrieve the ring or he would die trying. It was as simple as that. Part of him didn't really care which, so long as it was finally over.

X X X

Tyrone breathed a sigh of relief as he closed the door behind Rachelle and the Winchesters. It felt a little bit like closing the door on the insanity of the last couple of hours, like he was getting his life back somehow.

All dried off, they'd decided that they needed to try to find some other way of locating the creature. Rachelle had insisted she stay close to her roommate, worried that the bagiennik, or whatever it was, seemed to be targeting those near to her.

Tyrone groaned when he realized that his shift started in just over an hour's time and he'd spent most of the night stalking the wrong people. He decided that trying to sleep now would only make him feel worse and that somehow he'd just have to muddle his way through the next seven hours. _Still, it's not like I'm in any danger of actually apprehending a human suspect._ His sleep-deprived brain did wonder what his colleagues would say if he revealed they really needed to be on the lookout for Swamp Thing.

Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he grimaced at the state of his haggard reflection. _See, this is why you can never get yourself a date_ , he lectured, feeling sorry for himself. He actually felt so tired it was physically painful. He decided he definitely needed to wash or he'd run the risk of finding an anonymous can of deodorant on his desk at work. He headed for the bathroom, discarding clothes in all directions.

He stood for an age rinsing the soap from his body, and if he wasn't so tired he would have groaned in pleasure as the hot water helped unknot tight muscles. _Okay, I really need to get a move on_ , he thought. He opened his eyes just in time to see a dark shape rise up from the water.

As the creature lunged for him, Tyrone tried to duck, but slipped. Instinctively, he grabbed hold of the shower curtain and it ripped down around him as he fell. He struggled against the creature, but, tangled in the plastic, there was little he could do. Within moments, he was pinned helplessly beneath its great weight and superior strength.

The creature - the _bagiennik_ , his hysterical mind helpfully filled in for him – grabbed hold of his head and leaned right into him. Tyrone stared in horror into its inhuman, filmy white eyes. It was like all his remaining strength just drained away as the bagiennik dragged him around like a rag doll. It huffed in irritation, and Tyrone moaned in fear at the sight of the rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth in the creature's mouth. _It's just realized I don't have the ring_ , he thought, fully expecting these to be his final moments on Earth. _This isn't exactly the kind of date I had in mind earlier_ , the hysterical corner of his brain added.

The bagiennik gave him an unreadable look and lowered him gently to the floor, before turning and diving into the bathtub. It was gone.

Tyrone lay for a long while before he found the energy to crawl to his phone and search for the card the Winchesters had left him.

When the phone was answered, it took him several attempts to get his voice to work.  
"Sam?" he croaked, "It's coming... for Rachelle..."

X X X


	9. Treading Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachelle and the boys try to catch their breaths... and find conflict where they don't expect it.
> 
> This chapter written by judithyaffa.
> 
> A/N I was finally able to do chapter 9, although it took me two weeks to write and rewrite, with the amazing help of my co-authors. But when it topped 5,000 words, we split it into two. So chapter 9 will be up tonight and chapter 10 will be up on Thursday. Enjoy!
> 
> I'd also like to thank CasXxGrippedXxMeXxTight for her insightful comments and criticism.

Rachelle stepped out of the Impala into the bright morning sunshine. The crisp autumn wind blew in her face but she was too preoccupied to pay it much heed. During the car ride home, she had been steadily more and more on edge, her mind conjuring pictures of the people she loved, dead at the bagiennik's hand. In her imagination, it was really Mer's face staring up at her at the Rec Center, the flesh on her face burned, her eyes wide with terror. Now Amy was curled over in the fish tank. Those tiny hands that had given Rachelle a massage just a few days ago were reaching desperately for unattainable freedom. Rachelle shuddered as she tried to shut out the images that wouldn't stop coming. Sometimes her imagination was her greatest enemy.

She ran up the stairs and fumbled for the key, so nervous that she was having a hard time opening the door, something she'd done so many times it should have been second nature. "Damn it," she muttered. "What's wrong with me?"

Dean came up behind her and put a hand on her wrist. "Take it easy, Rachelle," he said. "Slow down, it's okay." His hand and words seemed to slow her heartbeat. She was suddenly conscious of the nearness of his body and the desire to rest against him was overwhelming. She leaned into him, took a deep breath, and turned the key. He took his hand off her wrist and she opened the door, missing that touch already.

Rachelle sprinted down the long hall and hammered on Mer's door, shouting at the top of her voice for her friend.

There was no answer. _Maybe Mer wasn't home? Or maybe..._

She pounded harder. Still no answer. Dean and Sam drew their guns and took up positions on either side of her. Sam was about to kick in the door when they heard a toilet flush and Mer's voice. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" They barely had a chance to conceal their weapons before the door swung open.

Mer stood there in her shabby old bathrobe, her hair rumpled and face devoid of makeup. She looked at her friend, confused. "Rachelle?"

Rachelle flung herself into Mer's arms with a deep sigh of relief. She'd had a feeling of dread, so sure that something awful had happened to Mer. For some reason she kept seeing an image of something attacking Mer in the shower.

"Rachelle? What is it, what's wrong?" Mer pulled away and looked at her friend. "Why were you pounding on the door? Did something happen?"

"N..no," Rachelle said, unsure of what to tell her friend.

"Wait a minute!" Her voice got louder. "Are these burns?" She put a hand to Rachelle's face, touching the tender, peeling skin where the bagiennik had burned her just that morning. Rachelle tried not to wince at the pain from Mer's touch, but of course Mer noticed. Her brow wrinkled with concern and she turned up her nose. "And what's that smell?"

Rachelle shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware that the simple sponge bath she had taken at Detective Tyrone's house could not do the job of a steaming hot shower, a luxury she desperately wanted. "I, uh, fell in the river," she muttered, not quite able to look Mer in the eye.

"You what? How did that happen?" Mer caught sight of Sam and Dean standing on either side of the door. "Does it have to do with _them_?" She swept the brothers with a gaze that screamed _stranger, beware!,_ her eyes hard with watchful, purposeful anger.

_Rachelle's breath caught as she saw, in Mer's place, an implacable warden, obviously a person of great importance in charge of a mental institution. Keeper of the gates of her sanity, white-coated and stern faced, the Warden had already decided that Rachelle needed to be kept under lock and key while she, and she alone, decided Rachelle's treatment. The Warden placed her hands on her hips and faced the brothers, spine rigid, placing herself, unconsciously or not, between them and Rachelle. It reminded her of her earlier vision, where Mer was trying to lock her up in a soft padded box to protect her from the evils of the world._

_"Are you two causing trouble for Rachelle?" the Warden demanded, her imperious tones echoing in the small hallway. "Hasn't she had enough trouble already? How did she get burnt?"_

"Now wait a minute, Mer!" Rachelle protested. "They're my friends, they wouldn't hurt me..."

 _This time Rachelle was not in a padded box. Instead, she saw a wall spring up between her and Mer, a brick and mortar affair covered with lichen and ivy. Was this the wall of her sanity, she wondered, noting that though the wall was growing on its own, it was also crumbling from the bottom. But no, she realized, this was how_ Mer _was seeing things. As fast as Mer was trying to build the wall, it would crumble, because she couldn't keep danger away from Rachelle._

_The wall expanded, becoming a ring around Rachelle, encircling her entirely. But Rachelle wasn't imprisoned; the wall was no barrier at all. Growing and crumbling at the same time, it was transparent, translucent. She put her arm out and it went right through. And she could see the boys, for all of the Warden's efforts to keep them out._

_"No, really, ma'am, we'd never dream of causing trouble for her..." Sam said in his most reassuring voice, but he and Dean had changed as well. They had black burglar masks on, jaunty French berets and black and white striped prison outfits. She almost giggled. They looked like the Hamburglar from those McDonald's commercials. But they had coils of rope, she saw, and they would release her from Mer's wall._

_The black masks the boys wore couldn't hide the truth from Rachelle. She could see their feelings as if she were sitting inside their skins. Sam's face was open, as if he were trying to placate the Warden. Dean's jaw was clenched and he was bracing for a fight, his hunter's mask of indifference already up. Rachelle could see the defensiveness behind his facade. She could tell it really bothered him that she'd been attacked in the river; he blamed himself._

_Rachelle stared harder at Dean. From the center of his chest, a dark red glow radiated outward, filaments spreading across his prison outfit. Like those pictures of the nervous system that they showed you in science class at school, she realized. These were webs of pain traveling across his body. She wondered... was this real? Maybe he'd reinjured his ribs? He had helped pull her from the river, after all. He was walking a bit stiffly again, she realized. She'd have to look into that once they were alone._

Sam's cell phone rang and Rachelle blinked, the sound a disruption to the smoothness of the vision, which wavered for a moment and then broke. The Warden, the wall and Hamburglars Sam and Dean were gone, as if she'd never seen them.

"Excuse me," Sam said after glancing at the number. He walked a few feet, trying to keep the conversation private, but Rachelle could see his body tensing up as he talked.

Meanwhile, Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out a badge, flashing it at Mer. "Actually, Meredith, we're Federal agents," Dean started to say, only then noticing Rachelle frantically motioning with her right hand behind her back, trying to warn him to stop. _Oh God,_ she thought, _he has no idea that I told her the truth and that she knows they're demon hunters..._

"You're with the FBI?" Mer frowned, and snatched the badge from his hand. "Agent... Brody?" She gave back the badge but seemed puzzled and not at all inclined to trust the paper it was written on. Inwardly, Rachelle groaned, but there was no taking back what Dean had said.

"That's right," he said, shooting Mer one of his patented "charm the ladies" smiles and putting the badge away. "We're undercover agents trying to find and catch the killer on campus, and we believe Rachelle is in danger."

"Danger?" Mer's expression was guarded and Rachelle could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she compared Rachelle's "demon hunter" explanation with Dean's "witness protection" story. _It's as if Mer is trying to build a coherent picture from two different puzzle sets where half the pieces are missing and the ones that are there are all in the wrong place,_ Rachelle thought. _Or it's like a Rorschach test taken by a person with multiple personalities who keeps changing his story every five minutes._ She felt a twinge of guilt for her part in causing this confusion.

Rachelle's stomach clenched when Mer's eyes fixed angrily on Dean. "I don't think much of your protection," she said. "She's got burns on her face, she fell in the river... How the hell are you protecting her?"

Mer's words stung Dean, though his own inner voice had been saying that, and much worse, since the attack on Rachelle. He reacted defensively, vehemently, attacking without thought. "Listen, she's still alive... Ya think we might've had somethin' to do with that?"

He would've said more but they were interrupted by Sam, who snapped off his phone and hurried back to them. Sam spoke urgently, looking pointedly at Rachelle and Dean, who looked like he was ready to explode. "We need to talk."

Mer bristled and opened her mouth to protest, but Rachelle stilled her with a hand on her shoulder. "No, Mer, it's okay... Something's come up. I'll be down a little later, okay?" She gave Mer a hug and deftly stepped past her friend, who seemed, for a moment, like she was going to block her but then grudgingly let her go. Mer looked on with narrowed eyes as Rachelle led the boys upstairs to her apartment, Dean casting her one last, venomous look.

Once they were out of sight, Mer closed her door and stood still for a moment before walking to the phone and dialing Amy's number.

X X X

Dean was still muttering under his breath when Rachelle closed the door to her apartment with a sigh. In her inner sanctum, away from Mer and her questions, the mood already felt lighter. "That was... intense." She leaned against the door, the tension from the conflict between Mer and Dean slowly starting to fade.

"What a b..." Dean stopped, remembering that Meredith was Rachelle's friend. "I mean, she's so friggin' stubborn!"

"If you were in her place, you'd do the same."

"No, I'd trust you, and I'd wait for you to tell me what was flyin'," he said, making himself comfortable on the green and orange plaid monstrosity that passed for a couch.

Sam's sarcastic response carried through the room. "Really?"

"Shut up, bitch," Dean teased, the _normalcy_ of the remark lifting Rachelle's spirits.

"Well, I'm just glad that's _over_ ," she said.

"Amen, sister. That was awkward," Dean responded. "Like that moment when you're reading the words on someone's t-shirt and it looks like you're staring at their boobs." Rachelle chuckled, but tried not to cross her arms.

Dean grinned devilishly. "Aha, I made you laugh! See? I'm the funny one. Samantha here always gets his panties bunched up."

Feeling a little self-conscious, Rachelle sat down next to him, sinking into the too-soft cushions and trying not to look at the overly bright patterned cloth, her eyes instead resting on Dean's chest. _Boy does he look good in a t-shirt,_ she thought, trying not to let her thoughts stray to some of the fanfic she'd read where Dean had been, well, not exactly clothed. Hell, she didn't even have to go to the fanfic... the show wasn't exactly shy about showing skin. Just look at 'Route 666' and that love scene with Cassie... Rachelle stared at his hard, lean torso and swallowed, blushing to the roots of her hair. She glanced up to see Dean staring at her, the heat of his gaze making her look away.

Dean turned to Sam, who'd ignored his jibe and was standing in the center of the room, surveying it like he'd study a crime scene. Accustomed to his brother's moods, Dean could see the clear lines of tension in Sam's demeanor.

"Sammy, what's going on?" he asked, but his brother continued to ignore him, striding purposefully to the bathroom.

"What the hell?" Dean said, "First it's life or death and now you want to take a leak?"

Too tired to move, Rachelle watched with curiosity as Sam entered the bathroom but didn't close the door behind him. She could just about see him bending over the sink and she could hear the squeak of the faucets being tightened. Then he turned his attention to the shower. When he was finished he muttered, "Just making sure there aren't any leaks, jerk."

"Good idea," admitted Dean, and watched as Sam repeated the process by the sink in the kitchenette. "So why are we at Defcon 1? Can this thing really come through a dripping tap?"

Sam leaned against the sink, hands folded. "Well," he said, "We know it can come through the shower and I'm not sure how much water it needs."

"What?" Rachelle's voice squeaked. "Oh my God! What happened?"

Sam hesitated. "Detective Tyrone just called me. He was attacked in the shower."

Dean said, "When? Is he all right?"

"Maybe 10 minutes after we left. And yes, he's fine. The baggienik had him but must have realized he didn't have the ring. It let him go."

Rachelle shivered, picturing Tyrone staring death right in the eyes. Dean noticed and pulled her closer, putting his arm around her. "It'll be alright, Rachelle," he reassured. "Nothing's gonna get you on _my_ watch." She cuddled against him, the sense of safety stealing over her like a warm blanket. She stopped shivering and felt herself heating up again with the awareness of being close to Dean. It was the feeling of his chest pressed up against her, the smell of leather and gun powder that she loved (mixed with the faint smell of the river), the wish that she could just make the world stop and stay in this moment forever. _And how sick am I,_ she thought, _taking advantage of Tyrone's misfortune so that I can cuddle with Dean?_ But she didn't pull away.

"Shouldn't we go back to his house, make sure he's okay?" Rachelle wondered, but Dean chuckled. "Tyrone?" he said. "He's a detective in a small town; those kind of guys want action. He's probably been training all his life for the Psycho shower scene."

Rachelle rolled her eyes at Dean's insensitivity. "Come on... nobody expects the Psycho shower scene!"

"I did offer our help," Sam said, "He insisted he was fine and told me to protect Rachelle. He's going to see what he can do on his end."

Rachelle felt awe at the detective's resilience. That he could recover from such an attack and go right back into the field, alone and unaided, took strength and courage she wasn't sure she had.

X X X

Detective Tyrone McFarling felt like an egg that had been boiled too long in its shell, pieces of the white bubbling through. He could barely drag himself to the bed, his body a heavy weight, his hands still shaking. Any benefit he'd had from that shower had been wiped out when that creature had dragged him around the bathroom like a toddler playing with a rag doll. In the aftermath of the attack, his mind kept reliving those filmy white eyes staring at him, the creature's sharp teeth. The... _bagiennik..._ He rolled the word around in his mind. At least he'd warned Sam about it... But he'd told Sam that he was alright and damn it, he was going to be! No _bagiennik_ was going to get the best of him.

 _Bagiennik,_ he thought.

_Bagiennik..._

He kept practicing it in his mind, his mental voice dripping with scorn. He pictured himself holding a gun on the bagiennik. "Come and take it, you dirty, yellow-bellied bagiennik..." he snarled at the mirror. "Okay, James Cagney I'm not..." he muttered, but the image of him holding that gun on the creature was steadying his hand, which had stopped shaking.

He took a deep breath, wondering what to do next. He looked at the clock. _Damn!_ 9:30 already... The Chief was going to kill him! He forced himself to move to the closet, to throw on clothes that didn't look too rumpled, all the while working on the puzzle of the bagiennik. Why had it dragged him around like... like a frustrated child? Why didn't it kill him? Was it tired of killing? Tyrone prided himself on being a good judge of character, and he was starting to get a sense of the creature... Dangerous, yes, but not something that loved to kill for the sake of killing. But definitely frustrated. Obsessed. Focused on that ring. And determined to do anything to get it.

He picked up his keys and locked the door, heading for his car. The first death - the fisherman - had happened Saturday morning. That was four days ago. The creature had to be holed up somewhere, but where? It didn't seem like the cave-dwelling type. So... maybe a motel? A boardinghouse? Where would it be? How did it pass for human with those eyes and teeth? He made a mental note that he'd have to talk to Sam and Dean soon. He needed more information on bagienniks if he had a prayer of tracking it down before it went after Rachelle... or hurt anyone else in the process.

X X X


	10. Too Many Ducks in the Pond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These chicks know how to make a loud noise...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by judithyaffa.

Curled next to Dean, his scent and the feeling of his body imprinting themselves on her psyche, Rachelle finally felt able to face the $64,000 question.

"So what now?" she said. "We just... go to ground? I stay indoors, never run the tap, never take a shower?" She wrinkled her nose and ran one hand through her long, blond hair, already showing signs of dry scalp. She remembered _her_ Mer lecturing her (with a twinkle in her eyes) about her showers being a little too long - she _did_ love a hot shower - and felt a pang, missing her friend greatly.

"Not forever," Dean said, "just until we gank this sonovabitch."

"Yeah, but that could take days... and there's Mer, and all my friends... How do we protect them? Tell them not to bathe?" Rachelle thought the whole thing sounded crazy. "And what happens when classes start back up. I can't follow them around all day, and I can't lock them in a box!" The image of the padded box flashed through her mind, only this time it was bigger, with Mer, Amy and Shawna locked inside as well.

"I've been thinking about it," said Sam, "and there's a line of research I'd like to pursue. Something that I'm hoping will help us find this monster _before_ he tracks you down." He pulled out his laptop and set it on the table in the kitchenette.

"Great! Where do we start?" Rachelle asked.

"It's just the beginnings of an idea, Rachelle. There's nothing to help with yet. I know it's hard, but just relax... I don't know, play cards with Dean or something, get some sleep..." Sam turned his attention to his laptop and was soon lost in his research.

Dean grinned. "So... what's your game, Rachelle? Texas holdem? Seven-card hold-em?" Rachelle blushed, because her mind had answered: _strip poker_. He quirked his eyebrows arrogantly and got out the cards. His stiff movements when he pulled the coffee table closer to the couch made her remember her vision.

"Wait..."

"Yeah?"

"Before we start," she said, "let me check your ribs."

"Not again, woman... Is this some conspiracy to get me naked?" he grumbled. "Cause there are easier ways!"

"This is something I can do," she said, "You're taking care of me; let me do the same. Now..." she ordered, a teasing gleam in her eyes. "into the bathroom and strip off that shirt!"

"Well..." he said with a sly smile, "Can't refuse a lady's command, can I?"

X X X

The man was a work of art, Rachelle decided, as she ran her hands over Dean's chest, feeling gingerly for signs of injury. Staying professional was even harder this time. Her eyes kept lingering on certain parts of his anatomy, going too low, and she had to stop herself before her thoughts started going places they shouldn't.

"Like what you see?" he said.

She licked her lips and her heart skipped a beat. _Damn, that man doesn't miss a thing. But then he is a hunter..._ Trained to notice everything, of course her extracurricular ogling hadn't escaped his attention.

"And what if I do?" she quipped. She stopped for a moment, her hands in the middle of his chest, the very place she had seen in the vision. "Does this hurt?" she asked, but his wince of pain told her all she needed to know.

"Damn it, Dean, what good is this if you keep injuring your ribs?" she scolded, as she went once more for the tape. He just gave her a shrug, grimacing at the movement, as if to say that there was no good answer. She supposed with a sigh, there really wasn't. He would do what he had to do, no matter what the cost.

When he'd taken the deep breath and she was in the middle of taping, leaning over his chest, her face close to his, he whispered, "We don't have to play poker, ya know." His breath tickled her ear and she shivered slightly. "There are other ways to pass the time."

"Keep your lungs full," she reminded him. Then she stepped back and looked at her handiwork. The taping was good, she thought, and found herself staring longer than necessary. It was like taking a lick of candy; one was never enough. She brought her eyes up and his eyes were on hers. She found herself moving closer, without thinking, and his head bent over hers.

Just then, there was a loud knock on the front door and they both jumped.

"Shit!" Dean swore, and Rachelle couldn't have agreed more. He'd just been about to kiss her, she was sure. They came out of the room, Dean pulling on his t-shirt.

Sam stood beside his computer, alert and with gun ready. Rachelle glanced at Dean, who nodded his permission and followed her to the door with his gun drawn. She looked through the peephole.

"It's Mer!" she said, "And Amy and Shawna are with her."

Dean put the gun away. "Great, here come the Scoobies..." he muttered. He shot Sam a look of exasperation. This problem was getting out of control.

X X X

Dean wondered what other surprises this case was going to throw at them now. Wasn't it enough that he couldn't find the key to destroying the monster, that it slipped through his fingers like water, that he couldn't protect the girl?

And he could tell that Rachelle was keyed up, nervous and twitchy, her back rigid with tension. He should be comforting her, damnit, getting her to relax, and then they could figure out how to stop Frankenfish once and for all. Instead, he had to keep the Scoobies off her back... _Damn amateurs, always getting in the way..._

When Rachelle opened the door, Meredith just stood there, her straight, shoulder length brown hair looking as if it'd just come out of a freakin' beauty parlor. The woman had dressed up, put on a nice pair of jeans and eye makeup, though it couldn't hide the dark circles under her eyes... Dean's eyes narrowed. She wanted something. What was she up to?

Dean glared at Meredith and pointedly remained where he was, arms folded across his chest. The woman raised her eyebrows but otherwise didn't react. She smiled at Rachelle.

"Hey, do you mind if we come in?" Meredith said.

"Uh, no," said Rachelle, although clearly she was uncomfortable. Rachelle moved aside, making room for Meredith, Amy and Shawna to come in. Dean stood motionless by Rachelle's side, waiting to hear what the woman had to say.

Meredith stepped in front of Dean and pulled Rachelle into a hug. Mer noticed how half-hearted her friend's response was, as if Rachelle didn't know how to react. It was so unlike Rachelle's normal behavior.

Mer's heart ached for her friend. Only four days ago, she had joked with Rachelle in this very apartment. Now she didn't know how to bridge the growing gulf between them. Rachelle's behavior puzzled her, bothered her, ate away at her peace of mind. She had become so secretive, barely around, spending all of her time with two guys whose story Mer didn't exactly buy. Never mind the crazy tale of hunting demons and travel between universes that Rachelle had tried to tell her the other night. Even the story of those two being FBI agents didn't ring true.

As she hugged Rachelle, she was filled with fresh determination to protect her friend. She glared at Dean over Rachelle's shoulder, triumph and warning in her expression. She seemed to be saying: _This girl is mine, I have her now, and I won't let you hurt her._

Dean's back stiffened in response and he squared his shoulders. _Who did this bitch think she was?_ Then Meredith stepped back again, brushing her hair out of her face.

Rachelle sought to defuse the hostile undercurrent between Dean and Mer. "So, Dean, Sam...I know you've met my friend Meredith...Let me introduce Amy and Shawna," she said, pointing to her friends in turn. "Amy, Shawna, this is Dean and Sam... uh, I mean Agent Brody and Agent Hooper."

Sam came forward from where he'd been standing, as ever the diplomat. "Why don't you guys all sit down on the sofa and we can talk?" he said.

"Good idea," Shawna said, her husky voice filling the uncomfortable silence. "But it looks like no one's taking you up on it." And sure enough, no one was moving. Dean and Meredith were still in the same positions, staring at each other, and neither would budge.

Shawna glanced over at the agent who had just come over and stopped for a moment, caught by the sight of him staring back at her. She'd been so intent on the power struggle between Meredith and the angry-looking agent that she hadn't really noticed his partner standing in the back. The man was tall, maybe three inches taller than her, and he was _cute_... with slightly long brown hair, those broad shoulders and that face that screamed "trust me"... Okay, he was at least an 8 on the hotness scale. And he was looking right at her. Staring at her... as if she were some kind of fascinating exhibit in a museum.

A bit dazed, she extended her hand. "I'm Shawna," she said, "Rachelle's friend," then felt foolish because of course, he knew _that._

Sam blanked for a moment on the names he and Dean were using. "Uh... Agent Hooper," he took her hand. "FBI... but you can call me 'Sam'." Blushing, aware that this might seem too forward, Sam felt caught by her gaze. Reluctantly, he dropped her hand.

Amy watched all of this with interest, but neither Meredith nor Dean noticed Sam or Shawna, so deeply entrenched were they in their own duel of wills. Finally, Meredith broke the stalemate. Looking directly into Rachelle's eyes, she said, "So earlier today, your _friend_ here said you were in danger." She motioned towards Dean. It was clear by the way she said "friend" that she thought he was anything but. "He said something about a killer being after you?"

"Uh huh, but you don't need to worry, Mer. Dean... I mean Agent Brody here, and Agent Hooper, are protecting me," Rachelle said.

Dean stepped forward and put his arm around Rachelle protectively. "That's right," he said. "We won't let anything happen to Rachelle. We're gonna catch that sonofabitch." His voice had taken on a hard edge, his eyes a dangerous glint.

Meredith caught her breath. This guy looked dangerous, out of control. Could she really trust Rachelle's safety to this... _loose cannon?_

"Right... That's why we came here," Meredith said. "We're offering our help. We're Rachelle's friends. We're not gonna sit on our hands while some killer targets her."

As if to echo her friend's statement, Amy threw her small arms around Rachelle's waist, in a hug that was as fierce as a bear's. Rachelle smiled, cheered by the warmth of her friend's embrace, and returned the hug. When Amy finally let go, Rachelle took in her friend's white peasant blouse and flowery skirt, and the matching bright teal blue nail polish on her fingers and toes. She was oddly comforted by the _normalcy_ of it all. _Even in a life-and-death situation, Amy can stay cheerful and fashionable,_ she thought, and wondered how her friend did it.

Dean blinked, his eyes drawn to Amy's blue nailpolish. _Electric blue? Really?_ he wondered _._ One part of his mind noticed how her blouse and skirt clung to her curves. And if she didn't remind him of a little kid skipping along and he wasn't liking Rachelle so much, well... He shoved the thought out of his mind. _At least she made Rachelle smile_ , he thought.

But Dean felt his anger rise when she said, "Ninny, do you think we'd let you face this thing alone?"

"She's not alone," Dean growled.

"But she's not with friends, either!" the girl snapped, stepping back next to Meredith and glaring at Dean.

Rachelle put a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Calm down," she said, "They only want to help me."

"I'm trying to keep you safe," he said, "and they're making my job harder." He turned to Sam. "Back me up on this, Sam..."

"Uh-huh," his brother said distractedly.

Dean noticed that his brother was staring... at that tall redhead, Shawna. And she was staring back. _What the hell?_ He glared at Sam. _We need to get rid of these chicks, bro... get your head into the game,_ he thought, at the same time realizing just how satisfying it would be to tease his brother later.

Dean poked Sam. "Sam, help me out here."

Sam blinked, realizing that Dean was waiting for a response from him. He tried to get himself back into the moment. "Look, we appreciate that you care about Rachelle," Sam said, "but you need to trust us... The best way you can help is to let us do our job." He was using his most reasonable tone, but Dean could hear an edge underlying his brother's usual patience. The case must be getting on _his_ nerves, too.

"Really?" Shawna put her hands on her hips and addressed her comments directly to Sam. She gestured broadly with her hands, as if the motions made her point stronger. "Hate to disagree, Mr. FBI, but there are things we can do that you guys can't."

Shawna began to pace the floor, moving quickly, and she was talking a mile a minute. Dean was getting a headache just watching her. Sam was staring at the woman, enraptured, while she continued her monologue.

"We can keep Rachelle's mind off this psycho, for one thing, leaving you two to focus on hunting him down. There are a few of us, so we can take turns staying with her, or whatever you decide is best..."

Sam smiled and his dimples showed. _No, he's not an 8,_ Shawna thought. _Make that 9 on the hotness scale._

"Go on..." Sam said. "What else can you do?" He seemed amused, which annoyed Shawna just a little. She was dead serious, after all. His partner looked more and more perturbed, and Shawna guessed _he_ was wishing they'd all just disappear. He'd as much as said so.

Shawna tried to gather her scattered thoughts. "Well..." She cleared her throat. "I was going to say we could be your eyes and ears on campus. We can find out what we can... "

"Absolutely not!" That was from Rachelle. "I don't want anyone else putting themselves in danger..."

"But Shawna's right," said Amy. "We can at least keep our ears to the ground.. We don't have to do anything dangerous."

"Not only that," said Mer, "maybe we can give you ideas - but we need to know what's going on."

Amy said, "Right... like why is this creep targeting Rachelle?"

Shawna said, "And what are we going to do about it?"

Meredith looked as stubborn as a bull as she crossed her arms and said, "We are not leaving until you tell us everything..."

Rachelle looked around the room at all the determined faces surrounding her. She found herself awed by her friends' bravery and support. While she'd been worried about keeping them safe, they'd been plotting to put themselves in the thick of this messed-up situation. The ridiculousness of it struck her and she began to laugh. It started out as small, hysterical giggles, turned into louder chuckles, then became body-shaking belly laughs. She almost slipped out of Dean's arms with the force of her laughter and tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"I... I need to sit down," she said, and Dean helped her to the couch. He was looking down at her with concern... Her laughter unnerved him, she guessed. She sat there, gasping, trying to calm down, but the laughter kept coming and she couldn't seem to turn it off.

"Oh... don't worry," Amy said, "She does this all the time. The thing to do is make some tea. It always calms her down."

Rachelle's breath caught and her laughter turned into hiccups. "No, no, I'm okay," she gasped.

Dean brought over a bottle of water, and she took a sip. She could feel herself calming down.

Finally, when she could talk more normally, she looked beseechingly at her friends. "Uh, guys, I need to talk to the agents in private. Can you give us a minute?

Meredith and the others walked away from the couch, giving them some space.

Her voice pitched low, Rachelle said, "Dean, Sam... We should tell them."

Dean stared at her, unsure of what to say. He'd never expected _this_ from Rachelle. "What? Are you crazy?" Dean said. "This ain't The Brady Bunch, babe. It's not some crazy sitcom where everything turns out roses!"

Sam nodded. "He's right, Rachelle. That's probably the worst thing you could do."

"Besides," Dean said, "They'll never believe you."

Rachelle looked at him, pleading for understanding. "They're my best friends, Dean. I can't keep lying to them."

Dean and Sam looked at each other and it seemed for a minute that Dean might yield, might yet agree to share the secret of who he was with outsiders.

Shawna, who was watching from across the room, knew the argument was about whether or not to share the truth. She'd had enough of secrecy; she'd heard Rachelle's improbable tale from Mer, but was more open to the possibility that Rachelle was _not_ having some kind of weird breakdown.

So when there she saw a lull in the conversation, she sat down next to Rachelle, rubbing her friend's shoulders. "Rachelle... I'm curious." She smiled, the smile of someone who loves to stir the pot. "Tell us about these demons your friends fight. And how that relates to the trouble you're in now."

Shawna's words felt like a knife in Dean's back. He glared at Rachelle, anger at her betrayal plain on his face. "What the hell?" he shouted. "Rachelle, what did you tell them?"

X X X


	11. Muddy Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search is on for the bagiennik...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by mainegirlwrites.

Tyrone sat at his desk in the police department, watching his coffee steam. Though his body was still, his mind was racing.

_Bagiennik... bagiennik..._

Although he had seen – and been attacked – by this monster, it all seemed very unreal to him. If it weren't for Sam and Dean explaining everything, Tyrone would think it was all a bad dream. He rubbed his neck, stiff from the attack. Rosy, the secretary, came up behind him.

"You poor thing, are you okay?" she purred, wrapping her cool hands around his shoulders and massaging them.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks, Rosy. I just have a lot to think about." He leaned forward, attempting to release himself from her grasp. She only leaned forward with him, pushing her heaping bosom into his back.

"Oh, those horrible murders on the university campus," she lamented, shivering. "I'm _sure_ you will be the one the catch the guy who did it." The Chief of Police walked by Tyrone's desk, an eyebrow raised.

"Tyrone, any leads?" he asked.

"Maybe a few, Chief. I'm working on it," he replied. Thankfully, Rosy took the hint and departed to her desk, swaying her generous hips as she walked by Tyrone. But he was already deep in thought again, pulling out a pen and a blank piece of paper.

 _This may be a new kind of case, but I'm going to stick with an old-fashioned way of solving it,_ he thought. Jotting down notes quickly, he began to profile his suspect.

X X X

" _Dammit_ , Rachelle!" Dean cursed in a hoarse whisper. His back was to her, and he leaned against the kitchen counter top on his fists. "You had to go and complicate things...!"

Rachelle leaned against the opposite counter, biting her lower lip. She glanced over at Sam in the living room, who was explaining the case in detail – no holds barred – to Meredith, Shawna, and Amy. She could see their eyes were wide, but they were listening intently.

"I'm sorry, Dean. It's just that when I first came to this universe, I wasn't expecting to see you in reality. I was used to viewing you on a television screen. I didn't know 'Supernatural' didn't exist here. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I screwed it up." Rachelle paused, waiting for Dean's reaction. She watched his shoulder raise in a sigh.

"Okay, it's okay." He turned to face her. "Sammy's good at doing damage control. And I guess the extra ears and eyes on campus can't hurt, either." His mouth was still set in a straight line. Rachelle mentally kicked herself. _I screwed up more than this case,_ she thought. She shivered briefly as she reflected on that moment in the bathroom, where she and Dean had almost kissed. Wrapping her arms around herself, Rachelle joined Dean and the others in the living room.

"So now we need a plan," Sam said, rubbing his hands together. "We know that Rachelle has the ring, and this creature is somehow drawn to it and the vortexes it creates...or maybe he has some sort of talisman that can track the ring - so he can find it. It doesn't seem to be working perfectly well, as the bagiennik hasn't caught up with us yet."

"Always a step or two behind," nodded Shawna. Sam looked at her in surprise. She had a quick mind, and the thought occurred to him that she would make a pretty good hunter.

"Right," he agreed. "I think we need to use Rachelle's ring to turn the tables and find _it_ – before it finds _her."_

Shawna had been holding the ring, studying it intently. She handed it back to Rachelle. "There may be something interesting in the university library we could use," she suggested. "They have a pretty large primitive societies and occult section."

"It's her major, actually," Amy interjected.

"Okay, so the two geeks can go check that out," Dean suggested, gesturing to Sam and Shawna. "We'll hold down the fort here."

"Uh, well...," Meredith stammered. She looked to Shawna and Amy for help. "There's a candlelight vigil tonight for Laura and Professor Jackson. We thought Rachelle would want to go." Shawna and Amy nodded in agreement.

"Demons I get...," Dean mumbled, his hand running down his face. "You can't be _serious._ Putting Rachelle out in the open like that – we did that once already. No, we are keeping her right here." His tone became stern. Sam looked at his brother, almost startled. Dean suddenly reminded him of their dad, that same sound in his voice, and Sam had a sudden pang in his chest. He didn't have a chance to reflect further, as Rachelle's back stiffened and she bristled.

"I'm _tired_ , Dean Winchester," she turned to the elder brother, poking his chest right where she knew it hurt him. He winced. "I'm tired of being chased, being tackled by black-lagoon-guy, being in the wrong universe," she poked him again, and Dean took a step back. "...being smelly, being scared, and being told what to do. I'll be _damned_ if you are going to tell me not to go tonight, to a vigil that honors and dignifies the memories of my friends. No monster, and no _Winchester_ , is going to stop me."

A pall of silence fell upon the room. Sam glanced back and forth between Dean and Rachelle, aware of the chemistry between them, and actually interested to see what would occur next. Meredith mentally applauded Rachelle for standing up to Dean – Mer knew Dean was only trying to protect her friend, but she feared he was getting a bit possessive of her, too.

Dean dropped his chin to his chest, chuckling and shaking his head. "Okay, woman scorned. Vigil tonight it is." He raised his eyes to look in hers, and bent in close to her face, pointing a finger. "But I'm not leaving your side, got it?"

Rachelle nodded, smiling back at him, and the tension in the room eased. "I'd like that," she said softly.

X X X

"Hey," Shawna huffed, "I know you're in a hurry, but can you slow down?"

Sam stopped abruptly, letting her catch up. She smiled up at him, catching her breath, tendrils of red hair falling around her face.

"Thanks," she breathed. They were on their way across campus to the library to research the ring. The late afternoon was upon them, and some of the light posts along the sidewalk began to flicker on. It was a quiet night, and Shawna missed the activity of the other students. She wondered when the campus-wide lockdown would be lifted.

"Sorry," said Sam. "I usually don't have company for this part." He began walking again, this time slower.

"What do you mean, 'this part'?"

"The research. Dean is more of the brawn, I'm more of the brains," he joked.

"I'm not so sure about that," Shawna responded, admiring the width of Sam's biceps.

"What?"

"Nothing...the library is this building to the right. I'm assuming we can get in, even though it's closed?"

Sam grinned, flashing his lock picking kit at her. In a few moments, they had entered the immense building. Shawna reached for the lights, but Sam handed her a flashlight instead.

"Oh, right," she nodded and giggled. "Don't want anyone to know we are here!"

Sam frowned slightly at her response, and she mentally kicked herself. _Duh, break into a building, of course we don't want anyone to know we are here!_ Chagrined, she lead him to the occult section, and they each began to browse the volumes, occasionally picking out a volume and flipping through it. After a while, Sam settled down at a table with five or six books, and opened his laptop.

Shawna continued her search, occasionally peeking through the holes in the bookshelves to watch Sam at work. The soft light from his computer reflected off his chiseled features, and he swept a hand through his mane of hair from time to time. Shawna ran a finger down the spine of a thick volume, wondering what it would be like to run her fingers down -

"How long are you going to keep peeking at me back there?" Sam asked her without raising his eyes from the laptop's screen.

"Oh – um, sure," she stuttered. She came over and sat across from him at the table. "Sorry. Is there anything I can help with?"

Sam pushed two books in her direction and tapped them with his pencil.

"Right..." she nodded, still feeling incompetent. She was grateful that Sam could not see her flushed cheeks in the dark. "...and I'm looking for...?"

"Any mention of finding spells, as in objects that can find each other. Also, any lore mentioning rings or fish-like creatures."

They fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the sound of Sam typing or Shawna turning a page. Finally, her eyes fell upon something interesting.

"Sam," she said, tapping a page, a broad smile stretching across her face, "I may have something."

X X X

Rachelle lay on the couch, giving in to its soft, warm cushions. She had a few minutes to just relax until Meredith and Amy came home with a few cases of bottled water that she would use to wash up.

Dean sat in a small leather chair across the room, gazing out of one of the windows that overlooked the campus. Rachelle smiled to herself, silently studying his body language. To her, it spoke volumes: _I know we are alone and I like you, Rachelle,_ it said, _but I'm still a little bit pissed off. So I'm going to sit over here and ignore you for a little bit, okay?_ The daylight was slowly fading, the room was quiet, and Rachelle closed her eyes.

_She was swimming under water, moving very quickly. She looked next to her – someone was swimming alongside of her – the bagiennik._

_Henri._

_He turned and nodded to her, the words coming to her in her head. Yes, my name is Henri. I have a name and I had a family and a life. But it's all gone, now. It's all gone._

_She watched him as she swam alongside, and he didn't really look very frightening anymore._

_I don't want to hurt you, he said. He pointed down below him, where the water was lifeless and dead, and rows of bagiennik skulls were lined up on the sandy bottom. Suddenly Henri was close to her, reaching for something – but she was under water and couldn't breathe and when she tried to scream -_

"Rachelle!"

Dean's cool hand touched her cheek, attempting to wake her from her dream. He bent down in front of her, looking into her eyes, and Rachelle sat up, confused.

"You were having a bad dream."

"It was Henri."

"Who?" Dean held her hand, concerned.

"The bagiennik, Dean. He was in my dream – or more of a vision. He doesn't want to hurt me, but he needs something, I don't know what - ," her words began to run together.

Dean moved beside her on the couch, enveloped her in his arms, and kissed her forehead. "Hey, it's all right, okay? I promise you we'll get the bad guy."

"Dean, I'm not so sure that Henri is all that bad. He said he lost his family – and all the others like him are dead!"

"Well good, that means there are less to kill," Dean replied nonchalantly.

"Ugh! Sometimes, Dean Winchester, you - ," Rachelle pushed him away and stood up, frustrated. She was beginning to have a whole lot of empathy for Sam. Before Rachelle could form her thoughts more coherently, Dean's phone rang and Meredith and Amy walked in with the cases of bottled water.

"Sam's found something," Dean told them, clicking off his phone. "We'll meet him and Shawna at the vigil in about an hour. Get washed up, Rachelle. We've got a big night ahead of us."

X X X

The daylight was fading, but Tyrone had one more house to check. He had been interviewing tenants of the rows of rental homes along the river for over an hour. More often than not, even with flashing his police badge, folks had been reluctant to talk. The houses were old and dilapidated, and most of the renters unemployed. A few snarling dogs had even confronted Tyrone when he turned down an alley, challenging him for the contents of an overturned garbage can.

He crossed over a set of old railroad tracks as he headed towards the last house, set off by itself.

 _Wrong side of the tracks,_ he thought, frowning. _Maybe my profile is way off._

Almost immediately, he was overwhelmed with a noxious smell. He covered his nose with his arm, gagging.

 _Rotting fish? Old seaweed?_ he couldn't quite place it. Coughing and shaking his head, he knocked on the door. He heard a shuffling of feet approach the door from inside, and it opened about two inches.

"Yes?" An elderly woman peeked at him from around the corner of the door. Her eyes were milky white, thick with cataracts.

"Yes, hello, my name is Detective Tyrone," he said, holding up his badge. He brought it back down again, realizing she was blind. "Could I come in?"

"Well...," she said, biting her lower lip. "I haven't done anything wrong."

"I'm looking for someone - a man who may be responsible for some attacks here on the river."

"Oh - oh my. Well, that sounds like a very dangerous man."

Tyrone shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He was tired and hungry, and it was getting late. He knew he would be on duty at the vigil tonight, and he was hoping to get a quick nap in before confronting another long night.

The door creaked open a little bit more, and Tyrone spied a pile of wet towels on the kitchen floor.

"Ma'am, do you live alone?" he asked her, his interest suddenly piqued. The woman immediately looked nervous.

"Yes, yes, I'm the only one here. There is no one else," she stammered, her voice rising. Her lips puckered in anger. The door slammed closed in Tyrone's face.

Tyrone turned and walked away, contemplating how to obtain a search warrant based on some wet towels and a hunch. He glanced back at the putrid-smelling house once more, suddenly realizing that with her puckered lips and white eyes, the old lady looked a lot like a dead fish.

X X X


	12. Caught in the Riptide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparing for the big showdown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by Wynefred.

"Sammy, tell me you found something. I'm dying over here."

Sam couldn't help laughing at the desperation in Dean's voice. "Really? Being stuck in a house with three college girls sounds like horn-dog heaven for you."

"Shut up. It's not like that. Seriously, man, what've you got?"

Sam held the phone to his ear with one hand as he opened the Impala's driver-side door with the other. He slid behind the wheel as Shawna slipped quietly into the passenger seat. "Dean, you have got to see resources this library offers. It's pretty fantastic!"

"Awesome. Can't wait to get my geek on. Until then, did this treasure-trove of otherworldly knowledge have any info we can actually use?"

"How about confirmation that the bagiennik carries the mate to the ring Rachelle has?" Starting the car, Sam threw it into drive and sped down the campus streets.

"Huh. That could be how it's tracking her. Nothing we didn't already suspect, though. How exactly does that help us?"

"Well, we found a ritual that should allow Rachelle to track the other ring and might even call the ring to her. We just need to find a few items for the ritual."

"So we can bring the fight to us? Good! No more waiting around with our thumbs up our asses."

"Right. Shawna says there are a few shops in town that should have the items we need to complete the ritual. We'll finish gathering everything and meet you back at Rachelle's."

"Okay, but hurry. Rachelle insists on going to that vigil tonight. Crazy-assed woman's making my job harder."

"Heh. Well, we'll get there as soon as we can."

Sam ended the call and tucked the phone back into his pocket, turning his full attention to driving. He and Shawna had a lot to do and very little time to do it.

X X X

Dean ran his hands across his chin, feeling the stubble growing there. Sam's news reminded him of how anxious he was for some action. This was certainly one of the strangest hunts they'd ever been on... some creature they'd never heard of and had no idea how to fight, cooped up with some girl from an alternate reality, all her weirdo friends hanging around.

Dean shook his head in wonder. There certainly was something different about Rachelle. He snorted at the thought. Of course there was something different. She was from a friggin' _alternate reality_. Still, he couldn't help thinking about her, how her face lit up when she got excited, remembering her smell. Even when covered in river muck, she smelled great. And earlier in the bathroom...

Stopping that particular train of thought, Dean jumped from his seat and paced the short distance between the kitchen and living room. He could hear the girls giggling in the bathroom as they helped Rachelle clean up for the vigil tonight.

And wasn't that a kicker? He had to admire her determination in standing up to him. Not many women had the confidence to put the great Dean Winchester in his place. He actually liked it... not that he'd let anyone else know. Yep, she sure was something else...

Fortunately, his phone rang before his thoughts traveled too far down that dangerous road again.

"Hey, Bobby."

"Hold onto yer shorts, boy, 'cause I've got a humdinger of a story to tell ya."

X X X

Rachelle bent over the bathroom vanity with her long, soapy hair hanging down into the sink as Mer poured bottle after bottle of water over it. They'd washed it twice to remove the river grunge. Satisfied that all the shampoo had been rinsed out, Mer handed Rachelle a towel and stepped back to give her friend some space.

Amy perched on the edge of the tub, chattering happily about nothing in particular. Her cheery attitude was having an effect on Rachelle. In all the craziness of the last few days, Rachelle hadn't noticed how stressed she'd been. She felt some of that tension melt away in the presence of her friends. Of course, cleaning her hair helped too! She really hated being dirty!

Rachelle finished drying her hair and set the wet towel on the side of the vanity. Luxuriously running a comb through her clean locks, she realized she would certainly never again take a shower for granted.

Soon, the silence in the tiny room drew her attention away from her grooming. She looked up to find her friends watching her intently. "What?"

Mer and Amy exchanged glances, then returned their gazes back to Rachelle. Again she asked, "What?"

Meredith responded first, "Nothing. It's just... this is all so strange. I mean, we believe you, but you've got to admit that this is pretty bizarre."

Amy nodded her agreement. "I guess it's just starting to sink in for us."

"No kidding," Rachelle chuckled.

"I do have one burning question, though," Amy grinned. "What's the story on that cute ghost hunter sitting in your living room?"

Rachelle shifted uncomfortably. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play innocent with us, missy!" Mer exclaimed. "We know you too well for that. There's something going on between you two. Now spill."

Rachelle couldn't help blushing slightly at the reminder of her encounters with Dean Winchester, one in this very room. Seeing crimson on her friend's cheeks, Amy exclaimed jubilantly, "See! I knew it! You like him!"

"Soooo...," Meredith prompted again.

"There's nothing to tell," she began. Mer snorted at that, so Rachelle gave her a wry smile. "Not for lack of trying, though. I like him, I really do, but things are a little... complicated... right now."

"No kidding." Mer laughed.

Amy stood and eased past Mer in the small space. She wrapped her arms around Rachelle, then stood back and looked her friend straight in the eye. "Just remember, dear Rachelle, that nothing is too complicated for love. You should tell him how you feel. Take the chance." With one last squeeze, she slipped out the bathroom door to chat with the man under discussion.

"Even in another universe, Amy is still Amy," Rachelle said with a smile as she watched her friend in the next room. She gave her own drying hair one last swipe with the comb before placing it on the vanity and turning to leave. Mer's hand on her arm stopped her.

"Rachelle, I want to apologize," she began.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Mer!"

"Actually, I do. I should have believed you when you tried to tell me what was going on. I just... well, it sounded so outlandish. I seriously thought you'd cracked. I'm so sorry!"

"Oh, Mer! I don't blame you at all. It really did sound crazy. But you're here now, and that's all that matters."

The two women embraced. Rachelle walked back to the living room with a light step and an even lighter heart.

X X X

The young cashier handed Sam a small bag containing the last item on the list. Sam thanked the girl, beaming his dimpled smile at her. Shawna noticed the girl sway slightly, as if the force of his smile caused her knees to melt. She couldn't blame her. Shawna was surprised to find herself jealous that Sam's grin hadn't been aimed at her.

Sam turned to leave, apparently oblivious to the effect he'd had on the cashier. Shawna turned back to the cashier, intending to thank her before leaving. Instead, she smiled at the distracted, awed look the young woman gave Sam's retreating back.

Still smiling, Shawna followed Sam out the door. She was pleased to note that she'd already become accustomed to lengthening her stride to match his long gait. With a grin still on her lips, she slid into the passenger seat. Sam folded himself behind the steering wheel and, stretching his long arm to the back seat, he placed the small bag containing their latest purchase alongside their other bags.

After fishing out the keys and inserting them in the ignition, he glanced over at her. Noticing her grin, he asked, "What?"

"You don't see it, do you?"

"See what?"

"She was totally into you, and you didn't even notice."

"Who? The cashier? She's a little young for me, don't you think? I like my women a little more mature." He smiled slyly at her. Then, as if shocked at his own audacity, he mumbled, "I mean... she was barely out of high-school and I'm... you know." He slammed the car into drive, his entire being focused on the act of driving.

 _Wow_ , she thought, _brains, bod, and a sweet personality. This guy is too good to be true._

She decided to let him off the hook, ease his discomfort, and hope there was time later to get to know this fascinating man a little better. "You're probably right. I'll tell you one thing, though. That poor girl's life will never be the same now. No other man could possibly compete with the memory of the tall, dark stranger who stole her heart with just a smile." She laughed.

Sam glanced sideways at her, then relaxed visibly. That gorgeous smile spread across his face, revealing the dimple she'd come to cherish. _Definitely a 10_ , she thought.

X X X

"So, this ritual is supposed to help us find Henri's ring?" Rachelle asked. She'd cleaned up and changed clothes in preparation for the vigil tonight. Dean hadn't had a chance to fill her in before Sam and Shawna returned with the ingredients for the ritual. She was looking at Sam with a mixture of dread and resolution. Dean really had to admire her for not freaking out under the stress.

"We hope so, we just don't know how it's going to accomplish that," Sam replied.

"Okay, then what do you need from me?"

"Just your ring."

Rachelle removed the chain from her neck and held it out to Sam. Dean intercepted it first, though. "Rachelle, there's something else you need to know before we do this."

She raised an eyebrow at him, silently encouraging him to continue. Sam also caught his eye, his face questioning.

Dean directed his answer to Sam, "Bobby called. He found some lore on this creature." Sam nodded, and Dean shifted his attention back to Rachelle. "Turns out, the bagiennik isn't our only concern. There's a queen, Wada or whatever-she's-called. According to lore, this Wada chick realized the bagiennik spit stuff was extremely toxic to her. Instead of making them an enemy and letting them remain a threat, she convinced her to make them her queen. They revere her, but all the while she's sucking their land and their people dry. She's using them. In fact, the bagiennik are supposed to be extinct."

Rachelle looked shocked. "That can't be true. After all, Henri's still alive."

"Maybe he's the last of his kind. Either way, this ritual could not only bring the bagiennik here, but it could also call to the queen."

"Poor Henri!" Rachelle exclaimed.

Dean sighed. "That's another thing, Rachelle. I don't think you should get so attached to this thing. It's just an _it_. A monster. And we will kill it before this is all said and done. You have to accept that."

"But he doesn't want to hurt people. He's just trying to do his queen's bidding, and if what you say is true, he's been duped. He's innocent in all this."

"Innocent? Rachelle, he's already killed people. In my book, that's justification for ganking the sonofabitch." Rachelle clenched her jaw and tilted her head in stubborn disagreement, so Dean tried again, his tone more compassionate, "Rachelle, we just can't let him kill again."

Rachelle aimed an angry glare at Dean, but relented after a few seconds. Her response sounded extremely sad, "You're right, of course. I don't like it, but you're right."

"Good." Dean squeezed her hand in approval before passing the ring over to Sam for the ritual.

X X X

Meredith watched Sam add the burning herb bundle to the ritual bowl and speak the final words of the incantation. The contents of the bowl lit up in a brilliant flash. Everyone in the room seemed to be holding their breath in anticipation of what might follow.

What followed was absolutely nothing. They all stood around staring at each other, waiting for something to happen. It was almost comical.

Dean was the first one to break the tension. "What the hell, Sam?"

"I don't know, Dean. Obviously, it's not instantaneous. Maybe Rachelle has to wear the ring for it to work."

Meredith's concern for her friend amped up at those words. "Wait, will Rachelle be safe wearing it now that you've performed this ritual on it?"

The brothers exchanged a look, then Dean answered. "Honestly? We don't know. It's possible that it will draw her to the other ring rather than drawing the creature here. All we can do is try everything we can to keep her safe."

Mer looked over at her friend, who nodded her consent. Meredith could tell her friend was putting up a brave front but inwardly she was extremely worried. If Rachelle could be brave, so could Mer. She nodded back and put a hand on Rachelle's shoulder. She didn't know if the contact was support for Rachelle or for herself, or even if it was an attempt to keep her friend from being whisked away.

Rachelle took the ring from Sam. "Do you think hanging it from the chain is enough?"

Sam thought about it for a second before responding, "Well, you've been wearing it that way through all your visions. That might be enough."

Rachelle placed the ring back on its chain and hung it around her neck. Again, nothing happened for long moments.

"Seriously, Sammy, I think this ritual thing was a bust."

Sam shot an exasperated look at his brother. "Dean, we don't know how this works. I'm just guessing here. We still haven't tried wearing it on her finger. Maybe it need contact with her skin to draw the other ring."

As the brothers bickered, Meredith felt Rachelle stiffen under her hand. Rachelle's eyes looked glazed and distant, like she wasn't really inhabiting her own body. "Rachelle?" She tried shaking her friend, but received no response. "Dean! Sam! Something's wrong!"

X X X

Ryba sat in her favorite chair by the window, listening to the sounds outside her house. Usually, the sounds of life around her gave her much comfort, but not today. She wrung her hands while listening impatiently for the familiar tread of her tenant's steps. When they finally came, she rose to meet him at the door.

"Henri, I am so pleased to have you home."

"Mrs. Bouřková, you look troubled."

"I am, Henri." She responded. Her face tilted up to his, her sightless eyes reflecting concern. "I had a visitor today. A detective."

Ryba heard Henri take a surprised breath. "Detective? Why? Why would a detective come here?"

"He said he was looking for a killer. Oh, Henri! I am so frightened!"

"Don't worry, Mrs... Ryba. I will take care of everything." Henri's voice sounded panicked. Ryba heard his heavy footsteps as he pounded out of the house. She resumed her seat, her worries not the slightest bit eased.

X X X

Rachelle swam through the murky water. She sensed rather than saw a figure swimming near her.

 _Henri?_ She thought.

She heard the response, _I am here_.

_What's happening? Why can't I see anything?_

_Come. I will lead you through._

They swam for what felt like hours. All the while, the water became more and more clouded. She would've sworn the water felt almost ill, like it was a living being that had contracted some sort of sickness.

Breaking the surface felt like choking on unending hopelessness. Everything seemed to be suffering from a blight, the signs of illness showing on every leaf and reflecting of the surface of the water. Living structures that must have once been beautiful now appeared limp and withering.

_Henri, what is this place?_

_It is my home as it was when last I came here. Once it was magnificent, but no more._ Henri emerged from the water, leading Rachelle to a seating area surrounded by trees whose leaves were spotted with disease. His eyes seemed ancient, filled with a sadness deeper than any Rachelle could imagine.

_How long ago was that?_

_Centuries. I was entrusted with the task of saving my home, my people. I fear even now it is too late. I have let my queen down. I have failed._

_You need my ring._

_Yes. It was stolen from us so long ago. My queen needs it to restore balance to our land._

Rachelle reached out a hand, placing it on Henri's scaly one. A strange understanding for this creature washed over her. He met her gaze, his ancient eyes looking tired beyond imagination, and her heart broke for him. _You didn't fail, Henri. My friends, they think your queen may be evil, that she's tricking your people somehow. They say your people are all gone. I'm so sorry, Henri._

Anger transformed Henri's features into a hideous mask. _Never!_ He jerked his hand from hers, his eyes wild. _You lie! My queen loves us! She entrusted me... ME... with finding the ring. She will use it to save my land, my people._ His fingers stretched toward her, his cold fingers seeking the chain around her neck. _All these years wasted. You cannot hide it from me any longer. I will find you. I will take it back to my queen._

Rachelle gasped as strong fingers encircled her throat, cutting off her air until blackness surrounded her.

XXX

"What do you mean, _different_?" Dean was trying to be patient, but she'd scared the hell out of him. She'd been unresponsive for several very long minutes.

"I don't know... it just felt different. More real, I guess. It was less abstract and more like I was physically there with Henri."

"Then it looks like the ritual worked," Sam concluded. "Can you tell where he is?"

Rachelle's eyes took on a distant look, as if she were viewing something in the distance. "Not really. Just that he's not close."

Dean held a tight rein on his nervous energy, trying not to jump up and pace the floor. "So what happened during your little walkabout?"

"I was in Henri's home. I think I've been there before, but it looked so different this time. Dying. Everything felt sick, even the water. I tried to warn Henri about his queen. He didn't... didn't take the news very well."

Rachelle looked very troubled. Her brows were crossed with worry and she picked aimlessly at her pants. Dean tried to make his voice sound soothing, but he could barely keep the sound of his own worry from his voice. "How not well?"

"He freaked out. Said I couldn't hide it from him anymore and swore he'd find me."

Dean looked over at Sam. He knew his brother was thinking the same thing he was. This creature had already been tracking her through its own ring. What if the ritual worked both ways... heightened the sensitivity of both rings and not just Rachelle's? That would mean that she was in even more danger.

Sam asked, "So what now?"

Dean felt like he was floundering, that this crazy case had just been amped up a notch or two. He ran a hand over his face to ground himself. It was a habit he'd picked up early in life whenever things felt like they were spinning out of control. The ladies in the room trusted him, relied on him to help them out of this situation. He'd be damned if he was going to let them see how worried he really was.

He used his _don't-question-me_ tone of voice. "Now you go find those vials of samples we took."

Of course, Sam never heeded that particular vocal cue. "Dean, Rachelle gave them to her friend for testing. Surely they've been contaminated by now. "

"Try, Sam. It's our only hope of fighting this Walla Walla chick if she shows up."

"Wada. Even if I do find the samples intact, what good would that do? We're talking about a tiny amount of saliva in those vials. What am I supposed to do with it?"

"I don't know, Sam. Tip some arrows with it, coat some bullets in the stuff, make a Molotov with it, or whatever. Just think of something. Meet us at the vigil as quickly as you can."

Sam nodded, just as Dean knew he would. Sam turned to Shawna. "Shawna, I need you to come with me. You know the campus better than I do." Dean's baby brother actually managed to look bold, confident, and dangerous. Girls loved that crap, and it seemed this one was no exception. She blushed a bit while stumbling out her consent.

Dean turned to Rachelle. She still looked a bit shaken. "Are you sure you want to do this, Rachelle?"

She seemed to transform before his eyes. One moment she was a scared girl and the next she was a pillar of fire and determination. "Dean Winchester, don't you dare try to talk me out of this again. I'm going to this vigil. It's my fault they're dead!"

Amy threw her arms around Rachelle. That girl sure did hug a lot. "Don't say that! It's not your fault, Rachelle. You didn't kill them."

Rachelle seemed to draw strength from her friend before gently pushing her away. "No, but my presence put them in danger. Don't you see, Dean, I have to go."

Dean couldn't believe he was caving this easily. "Okay. Let's get this over with, then."

The group trouped out of the house, Sam and Shawna in one direction while Dean, Rachelle, Meredith, and Amy headed to the vigil. Dean just hoped he wouldn't regret not having his brother at his side for this. Who knew what would happen next?

X X X

Tyrone slammed his phone down with a bang that resonated across the station. A few people turned to look at him. Temper flairs were normal in their line of work, but Tyrone was not known for them.

The detective had spent most of the afternoon calling every judge in the area. He'd even tracked down one judge who was vacationing in Hawaii. Every one of them gave him the same response... not just _no_ , but _hell no_. A few of them even questioned his sanity.

Tyrone knew he wasn't crazy. He also knew with equal certainty that he _sounded_ like he'd completely lost his marbles, which didn't help his case any as he tried to convince the judges to grant him a search warrant. That old gal had been hiding something, he was sure. Given what Tyrone knew about the... thing... they were hunting, he felt absolutely positive that he'd find answers in that house.

Snagging his jacket from the back of his chair, Tyrone stalked through the office toward the exit, thankful that Rosy was occupied with a phone call. If he couldn't get a warrant, he'd have to come up with another alternative. In the meantime, he had a vigil to attend and an innocent girl to protect.

X X X

Rachelle stood among the crowd of mourners, feeling both connected to them and separate from them. Like everyone present, she grieved for the loss of these two lives. However, her understanding of the events behind these deaths gave her an oddly disconnected sensation, as if she didn't really belong.

Surrounded by some of her closest friends and one scary-good hunter, she couldn't help feeling protected. She even spotted Detective Tyrone hanging around at the back of the crowd. He caught her eye and nodded from across the sea of faces. She knew from his expression that he would do everything in his power to keep her safe. She forced herself to relax by distracting herself with the details of what was going on around her.

The campus lawn was decorated beautifully. Flowers adorned every surface and hung from poles set at regular intervals. Candles and lawn torches shed yellow, flickering light. The college music department had organized a lovely program that played continuously in the background. Several local VIPs came forward to give appropriately solemn speeches. Everything was just as Rachelle expected it to be.

While the university president gave his heartfelt speech, Rachelle became overwhelmed by a sudden dizziness and her vision doubled. She realized she was seeing the events of the vigil from two different perspectives. Part of her stood among the crowd, sandwiched between Dean and Mer, watching the speakers and her fellow mourners as the candlelight flickered around them. Another part of her observed from outside the ring of tear-filled students and faculty, untouched by the soft light.

This other part of her grew until she was no longer looking through her own eyes. She emerged from the safety of the river, the strength and succor offered by her ancient friend swiftly receding as she walked. Anger boiled within her, anger and hatred and... fear... desperation. These smelly land-dwellers tried to hide it from her, keep it from her. But now it was so close! She had to get to it, take it, bring it back to _Her_. Then her land, her people would be safe. She had to save them. Before it was too late. Too late. So much time lost. So many centuries. Already too late. NO! Mustn't think that! Not too late! Can still save them! Will save them!

She strode forward on powerful legs, her mighty arms sweeping obstacles out of her way as she lumbered toward her goal. She spewed her poison at anyone stubborn enough to stand against her. She would not be diverted.

There! She saw it! The girl in her dreams carried it on a chain around her neck. So close! So close! Another one stood before her, blocking her way to the girl, but she flung her aside. Screams of fear and pain filled her ears, but she ignored them. They didn't matter. Only IT mattered.

She reached her goal. Stood before the girl, the prize. She stretched her hand toward it, felt the girl's freakishly delicate skin beneath her fingers. The triumph of having it almost in her grasp pulled a cry from her throat. A shot rang out! Agony! Fire! She thrashed, shrieking, falling. Her flailing arms struck the girl, who thumped to the ground, a motionless tangle of limbs. So close! But oh, the pain! She struggled on. Can't stop! _So close!_

X X X

"Rachelle!" Dean's urgent voice pulled her back to herself with a gasp. "Rachelle, dammit, get up!"

Rachelle blinked her eyes, trying to shake off the lingering effects of the vision. She lay on her back on the cool grass, Henri's face looming above her as he crouched over her prone body. He mumbled incoherently, his hands clawing and scrabbling at her neck. Lines of pain etched his hideous face and she felt the wet warmth of his blood soaking into her shirt, but it was his eyes that drew her attention. No longer filled with the ancient weariness from her previous visions, his eyes instead reflected a deranged determination.

Dean towered over her, his glock aimed at Henri's head. She had a feeling that the only thing keeping Dean from shooting was fear of hitting her. Dean's gritty voice cut through her confused haze, "I said get away from her, you sonofabitch!" Henri ignored Dean as if he wasn't even there. His scaly hands succeeded in gripping the thin chain around her neck as another shot echoed around her. The blast threw Henri off of her, the chain snapping from the tension. She cried out, "No!", as Henri thudded to the ground a few feet away.

Henri seemed dazed for just a moment before leaping to his feet. His mouth twisted in a triumphant leer, revealing his razor-sharp teeth. He lifted both hands, her ring clutched in his right fist, the chain dangling from his fingers. Another band shimmered on the finger of his left hand. She could feel power pulsing from the two rings. She longed for the rings to meet, to touch, yet at the same time dreaded it.

The power surged as Henri brought his hands together. Its song filled Rachelle's ears and mind, causing her to cry out, then crescendoed as the rings slammed together.

X X X


	13. Hook, Line and Sinker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you thought things were bad before...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by The Ymp.

Tyrone had barely made it to the pre-vigil briefing ceremony in time, but that hadn't stopped the Chief from tearing him a new one for what was now seen as his "new habit of repeated tardiness". He had almost bitten through the inside of his cheek in an effort to hold back a couple of choice retorts as he fumed at the authorities for allowing this nonsense to go ahead. The drain on limited resources for a public event when they should be scouring the area for the perp, supernatural or not, was bad enough – and it wasn't like they needed an excuse to fill the drunk tank with frat boys.

His foul mood wasn't improved by bumping into Sam Winchester and his new puppy traipsing along behind him in obvious adoration. If a gorgeous, six-foot tall, redhead Amazon could be described as a puppy.

"Who's your new friend, Sam?" Tyrone asked in a tight voice.

"Oh, hi Detective!" Sam gave a beaming smile and seemed so genuinely pleased to see him that Tyrone felt an inch tall for daring to be irritable with the man. "This is Shawna, she's a good friend of Rachelle's and she's been a huge help in figuring out how to stop the creature."

Tyrone didn't know what was worse: the long, torrid looks the pair didn't seem to realize they kept giving each other, or that a Winchester seemed to be pulling yet another innocent college girl into the path of danger. Tyrone sighed and rolled his eyes, _See this is what I get for skipping a night's sleep_ , he thought. It was then that he noticed the suspiciously bulky duffel bag slung over Sam's shoulder.

"What's in the bag, Sam?"

Sam gave another wide, easy grin, as he opened the bag for inspection, "Crossbows. We've treated the bolts with the samples of oil from the bagiennik."

"Very domestic-terrorist chic," Tyrone said, feeling light-headed with the onset of a migraine.

"That was my idea," chuckled Shawna, not picking up on the sarcasm, her eyes shining with excitement, "We totally raided the archery club. It was freakin' fan-tas-tic!"

The detective stared down at his scuffed shoes, letting out a long, slow breath as he mentally counted to ten. _I still can't believe I'm doing this_. _Please God, don't let me live to regret this_.

"Okay, I'll get you and your _concealed weapons_ past the security detail, but you're going to tell me everything you know," he hissed at Sam.

After Sam's explanation, the thought of something even worse than a bagiennik weighed so heavily on Tyrone's mind that he forgot to tell the Winchesters about the odd landlady.

X X X

Ryba stood by the door and listened to Henri moan and groan as he was caught in the throes of a bad dream. She moved to knock, but stopped, her hand in midair. _Some things just need to be endured,_ she thought.

Forcing herself to leave her lodger to make peace with his own demons, she made her way over to her favorite armchair by the window with an ease borne of long practice. She sat for a moment to allow the happy, bubbling sound of the water in the nearby stream wash her worries away. Even through the glass she could feel the warming and life-giving heat of the sun against her face. Giving a sad smile to herself she sat combing her long, scraggy hair while humming an old half-remembered tune from her childhood.

 _Things don't have to be endured alone_ , she decided, humming louder.

X X X

Henri tossed and turned, lost in the depths of his dream.

A song in the background worked its way into his subconscious and eased and calmed him, letting him know that he wasn't alone. While it was little more than the tiniest of minnows, he took great comfort from the fact that he at least had moral support of some sort.

The faint call of the song carried him from his pain to the rivers of his childhood and for a moment his heart lightened and he swam and played with childhood friends from his past in the swampy riverbanks.

But the light soon passed and he could feel another, darker presence calling him like a siren song.

He tried to pull against it, but once it had found purchase on him it would not let him go. The usual tiredness won over him and he resigned himself to the currents of his dream dragging him towards the source of the call.

With a start he realized that it was the other ring bearer, but this time the dream vision was much stronger, more intense. He wondered what had happened, as something she had done seemed to tie them together closer than before. The spell tightened around them like a fishing net, and he wondered if she realized she was as much a captive of it as he was.

He had tried to reason with her before, but then the link had been too weak and her human thought processes were far too strange to properly communicate. Now things seemed a little easier and he wondered if he was becoming more human, while the woman became more of the sea.

He begged the woman, _Rachelle_ , for the ring; it was maddeningly close - he could see it gleaming on a chain around her neck. He noticed that the link strengthened when it pressed against her skin. He shuddered, trying to contain his revulsion; human flesh was so strange, the absence of scales made them look so naked.

He struggled to follow her words, but the mental link helped him understand her intent. He knew she meant well, but the things she said about his queen were blasphemous, and the stab of guilt he felt at his own questioning of Wąda's motives only made him more determined not to listen.

Rachelle had only borne the ring for a short time, he reasoned, she probably only suffered from intermittent visions, not like the insanity-inducing onslaught he was subject to. _She_ should be the one to relinquish the ring, before she became too changed to survive without it, like he had.

He swam nearer to her and could sense she was in the company of many others. From her feelings he deduced she had retreated to her own pod for comfort. This only fueled his anger as he thought of all he had sacrificed, his family gone, all for the sake of the future of his whole people.

Henri could sense when her thoughts turned to the one close to her side and how her desire burned hot when she gazed at the man. She had a potential mate then, there was a chance for her to spawn her future generations. His chest ached in response with an insane jealousy.

The mate's intentions were dark and complex, reminding Henri of Wąda's contingent of guards. They were renowned for their single-minded purpose, for them their role was everything and they would kill anything in their path. Their worldview was very simple, you were either a threat or you were treated like you might be one day.

The man was definitely intimidating, his thoughts were jagged with threats of barely concealed violence and even his movements crackled with danger. So many implements of death surrounded the man, wicked and sharp, the well-honed edges reflecting white pools of light around the room, white like the blood in Henri's body that the man wanted only to spill.

The mate's thoughts and actions gave proof to the lie of the words that Rachelle disgorged. _A vomit of lies about the Lady Wąda. Is there nothing these scaleless freaks will not try to destroy? First the land, then the sea, then my people, and now the good name of my Queen?_

Henri knew he wasn't perfect; he had doubts. _By the Lady, do I have doubts, but who could say they had not even in their darkest hour?_ But he was a loyal subject and Wąda had given herself to a devoted lifetime of duty serving her people. Ever vigilant, ever the protector, like a stern but loving parent guiding her children to ensure their best hope of survival. It had not been easy, the long years he had spent beyond even her reach, without her to guide and control his thoughts and actions as was best. Thinking for himself had been difficult and an unaccustomed action. He felt another stab of guilt deep in his heart as a dark part of him relished the ability to control his own actions, a part that feared a return to the comfort of his Queen overseeing his every waking moment.

 _No, it is not me, it is another human trick_ , he thought, _I would never think such evil of the Lady_.

He reached out to Rachelle with his mind, readying himself to send a psychic blast that would cripple the human, when his attention was diverted by a series of urgent banging sounds echoing around him. The link was lost as he surfaced back to wakefulness and for a moment he gazed around the room in sleepy confusion.

Ryba hammered again on the door, "Henri! Henri, are you alright in there, my dear?"

Henri took a deep breath, filling his lungs to capacity, as if readying himself for a deep dive. The heat of his anger had dissipated like he had swum through a sudden freezing underwater current. Sensing his landlady was alone he did not bother to assume the glamour of a human disguise as he opened the door.

"Henri, I heard shouting. Everything is all right?" the old woman asked, her eyes moving across him sightlessly, as milky looking as his own. He found it oddly comforting.

"I am fine, Mrs. Bouřková. It is just bad dream. Sorry to disturb you."

"Ryba," she mock scolded, "You know you can always talk to me if something troubles you, Henri."

"I _am_ fine," he lied, "Nothing to worry about."

As she turned to leave he couldn't help but wonder at the odd look of triumph on her face.

X X X

After the interruption, Henri found that sleep and the ability to use the mental link had temporarily escaped him. He decided another direct approach was required as, although he felt over-tired and just wanted to rest, he couldn't let the ring just slip from his clutches after so long.

Hearing the sound of his approaching footsteps, Ryba asked him to stay, "Please Henri, I am worried about that detective, please do not go."

Henri wondered briefly what Ryba thought of him, for someone without sight she seemed so very perceptive. He had grown strangely fond of the old woman and he felt a pulse of anger at the thought of the detective causing her anguish... because of him.

"I do not want to, but I cannot turn away from this now. I must face this..."

Ryba's face twisted in a naked expression of choked anguish, too overcome to speak. She turned away from him to stare sightlessly out of the window in the direction of the river.

"Thank you Ryba, for everything," he called.

Ryba heard the door click shut behind him. Ignoring the tears falling from her eyes, she returned to the endless combing of her hair. After a moment of decision she started to sing with a voice that at first wavered from years of disuse.

X X X

Henri dove into the river and the water seemed to vibrate around him with the call of the bagiennik. As he forged ahead, he felt powerful and unstoppable in a way that he hadn't for too long to remember.

He swam faster and deeper, enjoying the sensation of the liquid flowing against his scales like a lover's kiss, before he used his natural abilities to move into the places _between_. He sensed a large body of water near to the other ring whose location now burned with a brilliant light in his mind's eye.

Henri flew from the water so gracefully that many of the nearby students assumed that the fountains - switched off out of respect for the vigil - had been reinstated. He somersaulted and landed on all fours within view of his target, Rachelle.

It was almost anticlimactically easy to force his way through the crowds of puny humans, casting them aside like twigs in the rivers, to pull the ring from the weak chain about her neck while all around her were frozen in shock and surprise.

There was a sudden blast of a gun so close to his chest that even his scales couldn't protect him. He screeched in agony as the bullets tore through his body, but he had lived with pain for centuries and he had no fear of death. _I am too close to stop now_.

The rings flipped in his hands like mismatched magnets, but then finally snapped together with a sound that echoed like thunder off of the surrounding buildings. A rapidly expanding tunnel of whirling wind exploded from the rings with startling speed, sending the spectators running for their lives under the onslaught of flying debris.

Rachelle looked at him with such an expression of abject horror that his own sharp-toothed grin of triumph faded and died under its weight.

A roaring, grinding cry, like mountains colliding, announced the arrival of an enormous beast from the centre of the vortex. The ground shuddered and rolled, while flagstones cracked under the shockwave of thunderous footsteps. Huge, heavy appendages like a cross between fins and wings shook out with frightening force, instantly killing two passersby and sending out a powerful blast that uprooted a nearby tree.

Henri fell to his knees in wide-eyed adoration, "My lady, my lady," he cried over and over again, holding his side to staunch the blood loss from the worst of his gun shot wounds.

Rachelle's reaction was like a kick to his gut as she raised her hands to her head and sobbed, "No, no, no!" louder and louder. _She's a human, she doesn't understand. They do not know joy, they only destroy,_ he thought to himself, but the old catechism – long drummed into him since he was first spawned – no longer seemed to ring true.

It was like a veil was lifted from his vision, and with new eyes he watched as Wąda flexed her body, testing the limits of her strength. She was finally free from the armored guards that for so long had kept her restrained.

Her tail thrashed, swiping a car into the screaming crowd and Henri found he couldn't lift his gaze from the long stain of red left in its wake. _Something is wrong_ , he thought, feeling like he'd woken from a long, deep sleep only to discover he was burning with a fever.

He recognized the human he'd attacked earlier and in a moment of doubt and weakness had allowed to live, slowly get to his feet and - along with a number of others, _The human equivalent of the Queen's guards_ , he guessed - start firing their crude, noisy weapons at the Lady.

"Henri! The rings, give them to me," she ordered imperiously, barely bothered by the assault. She slapped with one claw, as if swatting an annoying gnat, sending several of her assailants flying through the air to land broken and dying at a distance.

Without conscious thought, Henri moved nearer to her, his hand stretching out.

"Please, Henri. Don't do it, she'll destroy us all," Rachelle begged. She tried to run towards him, but was held back by the two men from earlier.

Henri felt divorced from reality, this was everything he had been aiming to achieve for the last several hundred years; he couldn't stop now. As Wąda glared at him with her hypnotic eyes he realized he _couldn't_ stop now. He tuned out the screams and cries of the hurt and dying all around him as he placed the rings in her huge taloned hand.

Wąda screamed in triumph as the last of the remaining, invisible bonds failed. _She is no longer a prisoner of the underwater lawns, now the whole world will fall at her feet,_ he realized. Pulling the thought from his mind Wąda laughed, "And when I've sucked this one dry I'll move on to the next one," she crowed, turning her hungry, vulture-like gaze on Rachelle.

"And then the next one, and the next one," she continued, her long forked tongue licking across her blunt snout and the many uneven rows of shark-like teeth.

She laughed at the matching expressions of horror and betrayal on Rachelle and Henri's faces. "Don't worry _ulubieńcami_ , I'll take you with me..." she said pointing one of her dagger-like fingers at Rachelle, "Thanks to that binding spell of yours it will only take the manipulation of a couple of generations until your kind are as easy to control as the _bagiennik_."

Rachelle's face twisted into an expression of rage as, moving with a single purpose like a well-oiled machine, she and her friends brought their crossbows to bear and let loose volley after volley of poisoned bolts into the great beast before them.

Wąda twitched and convulsed at the sting of the arrows.

"Keep firing, it's working," shouted Dean, motioning for Amy to distribute spare crossbows to the beleaguered police force.

Henri looked at the weapons in sudden realization as he detected the faint scent of bagiennik oil.

" _Nie!_ No... stop," he gasped.

"How can you still defend her?" cried Rachelle in disbelief.

"You do not understand! It is only poisonous when fresh... once in the air for too long... it heals."

With a deafening, joyous roar, Wąda reared up onto her hind legs, the diseased patches of brown on her scales already fading.

"Oh, crap!" Dean gulped.


	14. Monster Monsoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lady Wąda is on a rampage. Can she be stopped? And at what cost?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by mainegirlwrites.

"Oh, crap," Sam echoed his brother. The Winchesters and the police officers that had stayed to fight took several steps back. Bows, still armed with the oil-dipped arrows, fell to the ground. The sound of the metal and wood dropping in the sudden silence was disquieting.

Wąda stretched her long neck, her wide eyes rolling and showing their whites. Those who were injured stifled their moaning and sobbing, afraid of attracting the monster's attention. Simultaneously, Dean ushered Rachelle behind his back as Sam did the same for the nearby Shawna. They backed slowly into the shelter of a grove of trees near the stream. Amy and Mer could not be found.

 _You are truly mad_ , Henri told Wąda, his thoughts shaking with anger.

Wąda dropped her head and gazed at Henri, her mouth open in what could be construed as a grin. Henri slapped her, his hand seemingly insignificant against her large cheek. Her head reared up, and she emitted a shrill scream.

"Run!" Dean yelled. He caught his brother's eye, and a moment of understanding passed between them. The Winchesters had been in moments like this before - and the best idea right now was to keep everyone safe until they could regroup with a plan.

The four of them turned to retreat. Rachelle looked back for an instant over her shoulder. In horror, she saw Wąda scoop Henri up like a toy in her mouth and toss him into the river. Oblivious to her formerly faithful servant's pain and injury, the monster stomped towards the college campus.

Rachelle stumbled to a halt and began to turn around, back towards the river and Henri. Dean grabbed her shirt, his eyes panicked.

"Let me go!" Rachelle cried.

"No – I'm not letting you go!" Dean replied with fury in his voice. Rachelle looked at him with astonishment, knowing his words meant more than their situation for that moment.

"Okay, then come on," Rachelle said softly, coaxing his hand off her shirt. "Henri needs us."

Skirting the remainder of the crowd that had descended into chaos, Dean and Rachelle, still hand in hand, backtracked quickly to the stream. Henri was pulling himself out of the river, gasping loudly. One webbed hand held his side, where a stream of blood steadily pulsed.

Rachelle bent down to him, their eyes locking.

 _I will die, just like the others,_ Henri thought to Rachelle. _I have been a fool. My queen, she used me, and now -_

"Stop it!" Rachelle said aloud. Her forehead crinkled and her eyes narrowed. "Henri, you may die. But help me stop that monster before you do!"

Henri's eyes opened wide.

"I cannot," he croaked, struggling to rise to his feet. Rachelle helped him, clenching her jaw against the unpleasant feeling of his scales on her flesh. Dean stepped forward and put one of Henri's arms over his strong shoulders. If the situation weren't so dire, Rachelle would have laughed out loud at the look of utter disgust on the hunter's face.

"For everything that you have done, right or wrong...this can be your redemption," her voice was low and soothing, yet urged Henri to take step after heavy step. "For those that you have lost...for the family you never had...for the hurt, the anger, the betrayal. For all those things, Henri, now you must fight."

Dean grabbed Henri's wrist tighter, and shifted so he could carry more of the bagiennik's weight. Both Henri and Dean listened intently to Rachelle's soothing words.

"You think you are the only one that has ever been betrayed? The only one that has ever been beaten down so low you could only go sideways or up?" Rachelle paused, took a deep breath, and continued.

"Let me tell you, Henri, you are a free – _uh_ – man. What will you do with that freedom? Will you fight? Fight and you may die, run and you'll live," Rachelle voice rose. "But dying in your bed many years from now, would you be willing to trade all the days from this day to that for one chance, just one chance to come back here and tell your enemy that she may take your life, but she'll never take your freedom!"

Henri pushed himself off of Dean's shoulder, staggering forward. _I will have my freedom,_ Henri pushed the thought to Rachelle _. And you will have yours. Stay hidden, but stay close._ The bagiennik lurched forward, and began to talk aloud, over his shoulder to them.

"We must get the rings away from Wąda - ," he sputtered. "If I can get close enough and spray her with my poison, it will hurt her. Then will be your chance. Pull the rings apart, and - ," Henri wheezed and coughed, spraying clots of blood out of his mouth.

"Great," Dean muttered. "Got to rely on one monster to kill another – and this one is already dying."

"You're doing the right thing, Henri," Rachelle assured him, ignoring Dean.

Dean glanced at Rachelle, wiping his slimed-coated hands on his jeans. "Not to take away from your moment there or anything...," he began.

"Yes, that was from _Braveheart_ ," Rachelle conceded with a grin. "My apologies to Mel Gibson. Although, in my world, he turns out to be quite an ass."

Dean playfully plugged his ears. "Spoiler alert," he winked. Their eyes locked.

"Rachelle - ," Dean began. His mouth clamped closed, then opened again, his eyes clouded as he searched for words. Rachelle waited patiently.

"We'll talk later, okay?" he finally said. Rachelle sighed and nodded. _This is the Dean Winchester that fans know and love,_ she thought to herself. _Emotions buckled down tighter than a penny clenched in a miser's hand._

"Hey!" Sam rounded the corner, Shawna at his side. "Where did you both go?"

Shawna raced to Rachelle and hugged her fiercely. "Don't go disappearing like that," she croaked, her voice thick with emotion.

"Where's Mer? And Amy?" Rachelle asked her. Shawna took a deep breath.

"Mer got a rock to the head. She's okay – just a little dizzy – she's with the paramedics. Amy is with her. I can't find any cops anywhere – seems like they all split - ,"

"Not this cop," Tyrone announced, walking up to the group. "What's the plan?"

Sam slapped Tyrone on the back with a warm greeting. The officer, unstable from lack of sleep, could barely keep on his feet.

"Henri told us if we get him close enough to that monster and grab the rings from her, we might have a fighting chance," Dean explained. The group began following Henri at a slow jog, as he had made some distance. Up ahead, they could see Wąda's large form pause at a water fountain and take a drink. Suddenly, Henri turned towards them, doubling back, dashing to the river behind them.

"Henri!" Rachelle cried. "Where are you going?" He pushed past them and disappeared into the trees. They could hear the distant splash as he dove into the river.

"Great!" Dean exclaimed. "A lot of good he did on his promises!"

"No, look!" Shawna pointed to Wąda at the fountain. Henri had reappeared in the water at the monster's nose, and Wąda raised her head in surprise. He leaped onto her head, digging his claws into her eyes and his heels into her nostrils. The queen screamed in agony. She reared up, thrashing her head from side to side. Henri sprayed his oily poison into her forehead.

 _Now, now!_ Henri screeched. Rachelle grabbed her head in agony at the sudden force of Henri's desperate thought, falling to her knees. Shawna grabbed her, but Rachelle managed to weakly signal toward Wąda.

"Now!" Dean cried. Sam, Tyrone and Dean sprinted towards the monster. When they got to her, Sam leapt, wrapping his arms and legs around Wąda's arm, his weight pulling the heavy limb towards the ground. His efforts to bring her down were like a flea buzzing around a giant. Preoccupied by Henri's attack, she didn't even seem to notice Sam's weight on her arm.

Dean began to hack away at her clawed hand with a small knife. With her free hand, Wąda finally managed to peel Henri off her face. He fell to the ground with a dull thud, seemingly lifeless. The monster swung her damaged face to the Winchesters and Tyrone.

Henri had done well. Wąda's eyes were bloody, sightless sockets. There was now a gaping hole in her forehead where he'd managed to spray his poison. It was widening, opening and spreading across her forehead like a mad sinkhole.

"You think I can be stopped?" she hissed. "A millennia of planning...waiting...," she shook Sam off her arm, and he fell to the ground with a grunt. He rolled out of the way, but quickly found his feet again.

"You pesky little human...I'll crush you - ," she drew up her arm, sightlessly swinging her arm where Dean was standing.

With a roar, Tyrone leapt onto Wąda's face, sticking his arm into the hole in her head and firing the entire magazine of bullets directly into her brain.

Wąda screeched, and slammed her head into the pavement, crushing the brave officer. She remained there, head down, motionless. Dean reached into her relaxed hand and pulled out the attached rings in triumph. He turned to Rachelle, holding them over his head in a victorious salute to her. He glanced over his shoulder to check on Tyrone - only to be stunned by the sight of Wąda's head upon the officer's body.

" _Dean!"_ Rachelle gasped in horror, the words choking in her dry mouth. The sight of their selfless friend, crushed to death, had just about done her in. She managed to point to the monster, who was beginning to lift her head slightly. Wąda reached out randomly towards Dean, feeling for him with her hand. He managed to dodge her reach, but she kicked out her hind leg, sending him somersaulting head over heels and landing on the pavement with force.

" _No!"_ Rachelle tried to stand, but her legs wouldn't support her. The exhaustion of the past few days and the epic battle she was witnessing proved to be too much. A blur ran past her – Sam. He reached his brother's unconscious form, and hauling Dean over his shoulder, brought him to Rachelle. The rings were still clutched in his fist. Sam gently pried Dean's fingers apart, retrieving the rings and handing them to Rachelle. Sam looked up to Rachelle, his eyes swollen with sorrow.

"Tyrone...," Rachelle whispered to him. Sam nodded, stricken by the sudden loss of his friend.

Wąda was still moving, struggling against her injuries and the pain.

Rachelle felt a strength come from the rings in her hand. They warmed her with a power, an energy she had never known. She rose to her feet. A deep humming filled her chest, and her mind expanded with clarity of purpose.

"No more, Wąda," she cried. She put a finger from each hand through each ring, and began to pull them apart. Her face clenched with the effort.

Wąda's head reeled up in a spasm, the injured monster desperate in her attempt to survive. WIth a last spurt of adrenaline, she clawed the pavement, dragging herself in the direction of the humming rings.

"The rings..." she crowed. One of her hands snaked forward towards Rachelle's foot.

"No!" Sam shouted. He lunged forward, Dean's knife in his hand, and sank it into the monster's arm. "This is for Tyrone, bitch," he said. A viscous liquid oozed from the limb. Wąda wailed in the agony of defeat, her head once again slumping to the ground. Sam hovered next to her, knife at the ready. He listened as the creature took great gulps of air, attempting to breathe, but she remained still.

The rings glowed with a golden light that increased with the distance between each ring. Rachelle panted, her muscles straining. She felt a cool hand on each of hers, and looked in astonishment at Henri. His face was contorted with the pain from his injuries, but he gave her a curt nod, and helped her pull the rings further apart.

Rachelle felt the earth move beneath her feet, and glancing down, witnessed a vortex beginning to form between her and Henri.

 _No more rings, no more Wąda. And now you have your way home,_ Henri told her.

 _No, no, I don't want to go -,_ Rachelle began to force the rings back together, and the vortex shrank.

 _Rachelle, this is your destiny,_ Henri implored. He was badly injured, and weak, and he struggled to keep the rings from merging again.

 _Destiny be damned!_ Tears rose in her eyes.

Rachelle felt another cool hand on her arm. She turned and looked into Dean's eyes. His head was lowered in pain, and he attempted to blink focus back into his eyes. Blood trickled down the side of his head from his impact with the sidewalk. Henri stepped away, and Dean took the bagiennik's place, laying one of his hands on each of hers.

"No, I don't want to go," she repeated, murmuring aloud to Dean. Dean frowned sadly, torn. Then he slowly forced Rachelle's hands apart.

"Please, no," Rachelle sobbed. The vortex swirled between them, growing in size and strength. The wind from the maelstrom whipped Rachelle's long blonde hair around her head.

With a sudden flash of light, the rings released their bond to each other. Rachelle dropped her hands to her sides in defeat, her head hanging. The rings dropped to the ground, bouncing almost comically. The thick smell of ozone filled the air. Wąda convulsed, her last breath rattling from her mouth. At last, her large, lizardlike body was still.

The vortex swirled at Rachelle's feet, producing a soft roar with its power. She stared down into it miserably, her hair swirling around her face. She felt its pull grow stronger. Rachelle shifted her weight to remain on solid ground. She was balanced precariously on the edge, at that point of equilibrium where she could be pulled in either direction.

 _You must hurry. It won't stay open for long,_ Henri told her. He offered her one of the rings on his outstretched palm. It glistened in his webbed hand, winking and enticing her.

"You keep it, Henri," she said, curling his fingers around the ring and pushing it towards him. His face was a mixture of emotion – pain, fear, and sadness. "Maybe you can use it for some good."

He shook his head slowly, then gave it a gentle toss into the vortex, which swallowed it with a flash of light.

 _I am not meant for its power. Good-bye, Rachelle._ He lay a cool hand on her arm, and the two locked eyes.

"I'm not going!" Rachelle cried over the sound of the vortex. It was getting louder and more powerful. Dean grabbed her shoulders, and spun her to look at him. She wavered at the edge of the vortex, and she clung to him to keep from falling backwards into its grip. Their eyes locked - his almost threatening, hers wild with despair.

"Rachelle - ," he began, then brought her close, bodies touching, breath on breath, forehead to forehead. His hands wove into her hair, pulling her closer, and she dug her fingers into his back, doing the same. She looked into his intense green eyes, noticing the flush of boyish freckles across his nose. The smell of gunpowder and leather. The mad beating of her heart.

A swell of anticipation rose in Rachelle's chest, and for a moment, she could barely draw a breath. They were alone in time and space, no monsters, no vortex, no rings.

 _Kiss me, dammit_ , she thought.

Before she could ponder it further, he pulled her as close as he possibly could to his body and covered her mouth with his in a hungry kiss. She could feel the harsh prickles of his unshaven face, and then the caress of his lips, softer than she could have imagined. Rachelle responded in kind, a low moan escaping her. Their breathing became deep, quickening as he kissed her again and again, each kiss soft and gentle.

Dean's lips traveled to her ear, his cool cheek brushing against hers as he whispered hoarsely, "I'll miss you, Rachelle," his voice thick with emotion. Rachelle's eyes opened wide.

"Dean - ," she began, but he gave her the gentlest of nudges, and Rachelle tumbled into the vortex.

X X X

Shawna cried out, stretching her hands forward, but Rachelle was gone.

"I didn't get to say good-bye!" she yelled at Dean, her face contorted with anger. He walked by her, head down, shoulders hunched over.

Sam intercepted the angry girl who began to stride towards Dean, a clenched fist ready to pound.

"Shawna, I'm sorry – really sorry. But Dean had to get Rachelle into the vortex – and her own universe – before it was too late. The alternative was to have her trapped here - ,"

"Trapped! She wasn't trapped like some animal! She wanted to stay here," Shawna's voice weakened, as she looked imploringly at Sam.

"We had to make right the universes," Henri stated forlornly. He bent down to pick up the other ring, which glimmered on the sidewalk like a cheap gumball machine prize. He offered it to Sam, who gingerly accepted it, grasping it with two fingers.

"I don't know if there's a spell box to keep this safe," the hunter murmured.

"The rings are in two separate universes," Henri offered. "...and Wąda is no more. Perhaps that is safe enough." He coughed, specking the sidewalk with blood. "But now I must go."

"Where will you go?" Shawna asked. Henri had already turned, following a forlorn Dean towards the river. Sam and Shawna watched as he staggered, then fell. After a moment, the bagiennik rose again, then weakly stumbled towards the water.

Dean was sitting calmly on a smooth rock by the river's edge, cradling his gun, when he heard the bagiennik stumble up the pathway towards him. The creature paused, first staring at the hunter, then at his gun. Henri's breath came hard and heavy, his chest heaving with effort.

"There is nothing of me left to kill, hunter. I am already dead."

Dean turned the gun over in his hand, not looking up at Henri.

"Am I real, Henri? Or am I just like Rachelle said – some lame character in a low-rated television show?"

Henri managed a tilted grin, flashing rows of uneven, sharp teeth. He began to laugh, clutching his side in pain, but still laughing.

"You are not a lame character, Mr. Winchester," Henri replied. He took a cautious step forward, his eyes still glued to the gun turning in Dean's hand. His laughter descended into a thick silence, and Henri licked his dry lips. Dean made no effort to look up at the creature. Henri slowly advanced to the river, his eyes never leaving the weapon. His feet felt the gentle, cool lapping of the water, but he stiffened as Dean finally raised his eyes to meet Henri's.

"You better - ," Dean began, but the bagiennik was already gone, the river not even revealing the gentlest of ripples.


	15. Through Hell and High Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachelle returns to her universe. Will things go back to normal?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by Wynefred.

The swirling winds whipped around her, ripping away the sensation of Dean's hands on her arms, his breath on her face, and his lips caressing hers. Her heart cried out, _No! I'm not ready!_ The intense feeling of loss threatened to tear her into tiny pieces. In that instant, she hated the vortex for stealing her away from Dean.

When the tumult settled, Rachelle realized she stood in the same spot she'd left just moments before, though the scene around her was significantly altered. Gone were all signs of the battle with Wąda. No frightened screams filled her ears. No coppery scent of blood assaulted her nostrils. No horrible creature from the depths of nightmares lay dead on the ground. The night air almost suffocated her with its feeling of peace, tranquility, _normalcy_.

An eruption of laughter and singing caught her attention. A group of students sat in a circle under the shelter of a large tree, the wan light of a nearby street lamp casting shadows over their faces. Each student strummed a rhythm on their guitars, their soft voices rising into a pleasant melody. Together, they painted an image of lives without care, without worries, and without fear of evil creatures lurking in dark places to turn their world upside-down. They looked happy... and Rachelle envied them.

Rachelle tried to shake off her melancholy thoughts. She couldn't stay here. She had to... what? For a moment, she became overwhelmed with a sense of disorientation. She must have swayed on her feet because, before she knew what was happening, someone held a supportive hand at her elbow.

"Hey, are you okay?" Rachelle's heart skipped a beat at the timbre of his deep, gravelly voice. He sounded just like... but no, that was impossible. Right? She blinked a couple of times to force her eyes to focus. The guy standing next to her was definitely good-looking, but he couldn't compare to a certain rugged hunter. Worry creased his brow. "Maybe you should sit down," he urged.

"No," she heard herself say. The word sounded weak, like it came from very far away. She breathed deeply to clear her head and tried again. "No, thanks. I just need to... to go home."

"That sounds like a good idea. Can I walk you? You really don't look like you should be on your own right now, Rachelle."

Rachelle looked at him closer. She knew him from somewhere, though it felt like a lifetime ago. Yes, he was in her Psych class... Brandon? Brendan? Brennan! That's it.

"I'm okay, Brennan. Thanks." She gently shook herself from his grip and headed slowly down the sidewalk. Her wavering steps became more confident and determined as she walked, the crisp air refreshing her somewhat. In no time, she found herself standing on the front walk to her very own house.

Rachelle walked up the stairs to her rooms but hesitated before her door, both excited and reluctant to discover what waited for her on the other side. Her hand shook a little as she put the key in the lock and turned. Just as she'd expected, there in the living room sat the cozy blue couch that she and Meredith had bought together. She really was _home_. She sat down on the soft velvet, rubbing the fabric thoughtfully and remembering the hideous plaid monstrosity that had resided in its place in the other universe. She almost missed that eyesore if only because _he_ had sat on it. She sighed, a confusing mixture of emotions churning inside her.

A knock on her door startled her. Rachelle opened it to find Mer standing on the threshold. Her friend looked anxious. "Look, Rachelle, I just wanted to apolo... oomph."

Rachelle threw her arms around Meredith, stopping her mid-word. She cried out, "Oh, I missed you, Mer!" She clung to her friend as her jumbled emotions bubbled up in a torrent of tears.

Mer hesitated before returning a tentative embrace. "Oooookay. Rachelle, are you sure you're feeling alright? You're kinda scaring me."

Rachelle got herself under control, wiping the tears from her eyes with her hands. She'd cried more these past few days than she probably had in her entire life. She felt emotionally and physically wrung out.

She ushered Meredith into the room and onto their couch. Meredith sat on the end of the couch, as far from Rachelle as possible, and regarded her with wary eyes. Rachelle rallied herself to begin, but where? Fumbling for words, she finally opened with, "I guess you're wondering where I've been."

"What do you mean? Tonight? You went for a walk right after our fight." Meredith responded, her voice guarded.

"No, not just tonight. I've been... wait, you talked to me tonight?"

Mer's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Of course. Don't you remember? We had that stupid argument about whether or not I'd invited you to dinner tonight." She paused as if considering whether to go on before plowing on. Words tumbled over each other in her haste to get them out. "I honestly don't remember inviting you over and I could've sworn we talked about this. Alex and I had plans with..."

"Your parents," Rachelle interrupted. "I know. You made those plans weeks ago. Your parents are visiting for only a couple of days and you didn't want to miss any time with them."

"If you knew that already, what were we arguing about?" Mer flailed her arms in exasperation.

Rachelle took Meredith's hands, her eyes imploring her friend to listen. "Mer, I've got something to tell you... something impossible... and I need you to believe me."

Meredith chuckled humorlessly. "Can't be any more impossible than the things you've been saying lately."

"I'm serious, Mer."

Meredith gave her friend a searching look before answering cautiously. "Of course."

Rachelle sighed, gathering her thoughts before beginning her long story.

X X X

"Well, that explains a lot," Mer replied after a moment of silence.

"You believe me?" Rachelle couldn't help being incredulous at her friend's response to her wild story.

"Not only do I believe you, I'm actually relieved. You've been very un-you lately... ever since you disappeared in the pool that night. We've all been really worried about you."

"It was that bad, huh?" Rachelle's heart went out to her friend. It was one thing for Rachelle to go through this crazy experience... she had Dean and Sam to help her through it... but it was another thing altogether for her friend. Meredith hadn't had the support of friends who knew what was going on. She'd been completely in the dark.

"Well, yeah. I mean, first you disappeared, sucked down that vortex thing, and I couldn't find you. You'd been _right there_ just a moment before, and then you were gone. I panicked and ran off to find campus police. By the time I got back with them, you were drying off by the side of the pool, looking very much like someone who hadn't vanished into thin air. Campus police thought I was pranking them."

"Oh, Mer, I'm so sorry!"

"That wasn't the worst part. You'd changed. Honestly, I thought you'd lost your mind. You insisted that Laura had been with you in the pool, even dragged me over to her room to prove your point. I finally convinced you to calm down, that we'd figure it out, but when you got here you went nuts again. You insisted that this couch was wrong. Frankly, the couch you described sounded hideous."

"It was," Rachelle snorted softly. "That was easily the tackiest, most revolting eyesore I've ever seen. And somehow that monstrosity felt like a representation of everything that wasn't quite right in that world."

"Well, the other you must've felt the same way, because she seemed to take that couch personally. I even tried to calm her down by playing some of our favorite _Supernatural_ episodes. You know, she'd never even heard of it? Of course, now that I know what was really going on, I can understand. You seriously met Sam and Dean? I'm so jealous!"

Rachelle laughed at that. "I really did miss you, Mer. The other Mer was great, but she wasn't _you_. And she'd never heard of _Supernatural_ either! Didn't even know what a drabble was!"

Mer's eyes widened with exaggerated astonishment, "How did you survive?"

Rachelle chuckled. "Well, I had the real thing!"

"Sounds like every fangirl's dream come true. I want to hear all about it. Don't leave out a single detail. Is Dean as hot in person as he is on screen? What's he like? I bet he smells yummy," Meredith winked.

Rachelle smiled at the memories running through her mind of her time with Dean, but the smile turned sad and wistful at the thought of everything she'd left behind. "I promise to give you all the sordid details tomorrow. It's been a really long day and I'm wiped."

Meredith jumped to her feet. "Oh, right! Of course you are! What was I thinking?" She wrapped her friend in a warm hug. "I'm just so glad you're back. Get some sleep and I'll see you tomorrow. Come down for breakfast if you want, okay?"

"Sure. Thanks."

Rachelle walked her friend out and prepared for bed. Despite how bone-weary she felt, sleep eluded her. Her mind played over the events of the last day, dwelling on that one brief, amazing kiss. She could still see Dean's anguished face as the vortex swirled around her. Unable to contain her emotions any longer, she turned her face to her pillow and sobbed herself out before falling into a fitful sleep.

X X X

The next morning, Rachelle walked across campus to her first class. She still wasn't used to the idea of continuing with her normal, everyday life. She reached the commons area where she'd found herself the night before and stopped for a moment to soak in her new reality.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of purple on the ground. She turned to look. The morning light glinted off a small object on the ground and she bent down to examine it. Hope thundered through her chest with the realization of what she saw. Picking up the item, she smiled as the barest tendrils of a plan grew in her mind.

X X X

As the swirling winds died down, Rachelle took in the sight around her. She was devastated by the horrors she saw: bodies strewn everywhere, people crying and moaning in pain, and the blood! There was so much blood!

She felt a crushing sense of déjà vu at the sudden change in her surroundings and moaned in despair. _Not again! So, this is what going crazy feels like._

Rachelle wandered the disaster zone, too much in shock to process what she was seeing, much less form a clear thought long enough to decide on her next course of action. She could tell that the people around her were already trying to pick up the pieces. She recognized a few faces among the people trying to locate survivors and assist the wounded. Police officers questioned stragglers before releasing them to stumble home. A triage area was set up, where paramedics treated injuries and shipped the worst off in ambulances.

It occurred to Rachelle that she should go home and check on Mer. She needed to figure out what had been going on, what else had changed this time, but she put it off. She couldn't face the idea of going into that home that wasn't quite her home with the couch that wasn't her couch, the friends that weren't really her friends. She didn't think she could handle any more differences that confirmed her suspicion that she was losing her mind.

She made her way closer to the triage area, drawn by the emergency lights and the sense of organized chaos permeating the space. Standing, frozen, just outside the circle of light, she watched the activity without really processing the details. It took several moments before she realized someone was calling her name.

"Rachelle! Rachelle, are you okay? Mer, she doesn't look hurt. Rachelle?" Amy stood in front of her, talking over her shoulder to Meredith who was being attended to by a paramedic. Rachelle blinked at her friend, trying to clear her numb brain.

Rachelle saw Mer wave off the medic's assistance as she stood, swaying slightly before finding her balance. Making her way to Amy's side, Mer greeted Rachelle with a warm smile that surprised her friend, especially considering the stupid fight they'd had earlier.

Mer's gaze became concerned. She shared a meaningful glance with Amy before turning back to Rachelle. "Hey, sweetie. What's wrong? You're kinda scaring us."

"Which is saying a lot considering the last couple of days," Amy added.

Meredith snorted. "No kidding," she replied. "Rachelle?" She directed her next comment at Amy but her eyes never left Rachelle. "Do you think we should have a paramedic check her out?"

The comment broke Rachelle from her stupor. "No." The word sounded choked and weak. She cleared her throat and tried again. "No, Mer. I'm fine, really. Just... confused. What happened here?" She looked around, indicating the devastation surrounding them.

Amy blurted, "What happened? Rachelle, you know what happened! You were right in the middle of it!"

They were interrupted by Shawna, who showed up with a really tall guy with long, dark hair. She was talking easily with the guy, but stopped mid-word when she spotted her friends. "Rachelle? What are you doing here? Weren't you just...? "

Amy and Meredith looked confused, the looks on their faces mirroring how Rachelle was feeling... heck, how she'd been feeling for days. _Well, might as well face whatever this is_ , she thought. "What? I was just what?"

The strange guy stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders, a genuine expression of concern on his face. "Rachelle, we sent you home almost a half hour ago. The vortex took you away. How did you get back?"

"You know about the vortex? Who are you, anyway?" Rachelle could hear the shrill tone to her voice, but felt it was understandable considering the circumstances. She shrugged out from under the stranger's grip. He might be good looking, but that didn't give him the right to touch her as if they were friends.

The guy's eyebrows came together, his expression thoughtful as he stepped back from her. Before he could respond, his attention was diverted to a spot behind her. She turned and saw another guy striding toward them, his gait self-assured and determined.

The new guy spoke her name, his voice both frustrated and hopeful at the same time, then grabbed her by the shoulders in much the same way his friend had done a moment before. "I don't understand. How did you get back?"

The man regarded her with such emotion... passion, friendship, joy, anger, fear... all jumbled together. She felt she could get lost in his gaze, and the thought scared the hell out of her. She shook his hands away, not missing the hurt that crossed his eyes for a moment.

The two guys shared a look that appeared to hold an entire secret conversation... a conversation that involved her. It pissed her off.

"Will somebody please tell me what's going on here?"

The second guy turned away, his shoulders stiff as he stood with his back to her. The other guy turned to Meredith for assistance. Mer stepped forward and took her hand. "It's a long story, Rachelle."

"I like long stories," she responded.

"Then you'll love this one." Mer looked back up at the long-haired guy... _really, somebody should at least tell me who these guys are_. The tall man indicated that he needed Meredith for something. Mer nodded and continued, "Rachelle, let Amy and Shawna take you home. I'll be there in a bit. Then we'll clear everything up. I promise."

X X X

Meredith watched her friends escort Rachelle down the streetlight-dappled sidewalk toward home. She had her suspicions about her friend, but wanted to confirm it with Sam and Dean. "Is that who I think it is?"

Sam answered, "If you think it's the other Rachelle, the one who belongs in this reality... yeah, I think it is."

"So what? They switched back? Just like that? Easy peasy?" Dean sounded upset, though Mer couldn't figure out exactly what was bothering him.

She pressed, "But that's good, right? It means the other Rachelle made it back to her universe and ours is safely here where she belongs."

"Yeah, it's great. But..." Sam also seemed uneasy.

"But what?"

"What exactly are you going to tell her to explain what happened here?" Sam continued.

Meredith didn't hesitate with her response, though she wasn't exactly sure why he even asked the question. "The truth."

Sam and Dean exchanged one of their complex looks. Dean was the brother who spoke up first. "Are you sure? Remember, this isn't the same Rachelle you've known this week. This Rachelle doesn't know anything about what's been going on here. She might not believe you."

"You're right," Mer retorted, "She's not the same Rachelle. She's _our_ Rachelle, and now she's home, and she's scared and confused. Unlike the other Rachelle, she probably hasn't had any answers for the weird things that have been happening to her. We're going to give her those answers. And she'll believe us because she'll _know_ we're telling her the truth."

The brothers nodded approvingly, then turned to survey the damage around them. A thought struck her, "You're leaving, aren't you?"

Again with those shared looks that felt like a secret conversation. Apparently, they came to some kind of decision, because Sam replied, "Yeah, we are."

"You'll at least stop by the house and say goodbye to everyone, right?"

Sam rolled his large shoulders while Dean ran a hand across his jaw. Dean refused to look her in the eyes, but Sam returned her gaze with a sad, penetrating one. "No.. We've gotten more involved than we like to. It's best if we go now."

"But... but what about Shawna? What about _Rachelle_? Don't they deserve better?" Her words seemed to cut both men.

Dean stiffened. "That's not my Rachelle," he said sadly, then slumped away toward his sleek black car.

Sam sagged into himself as he answered her, "Shawna's... it's better this way. Trust me." He gave her one last penetrating look, his eyes begging her to understand, then turned to follow his brother.

Meredith watched until the taillights disappeared around a corner. She wasn't sure how she'd explain their leaving, but she knew that, with the exception of Rachelle, none of them would ever forget the Winchesters.


	16. Epilogue: Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by Judithyaffa and the Ymp.

Exhausted and without the strength to carry on, Henri surrendered to the strong river currents that dragged him along as they wished. _I just want to go home_ , he thought, but he knew that he would never manage even the tiniest portion of that colossal journey. There was a time he would have prayed to the Queen for strength, but those days were behind him forever. _And what is the point? They are all long gone now_.

Henri pulled himself from the water, unsurprised to find where the drifting currents had brought him. He slumped half out of the water, and lay gasping in the freezing night air. He felt a presence and flinched in fear before realizing who it was.

"All this time, you knew who I was," he accused, cursing himself for his stupidity in not realizing what should have been obvious to him.

"No, not really. And neither did you until the end," answered Ryba, ignoring the complaint of her old bones and squatting down beside him.

"It is, isn't it... the end?" It was a question that didn't require an answer. "I am afraid."

"Then hold my hand," said Ryba in a kind, quiet voice.

They swam through crystal clear waters warmed by the glow of a golden sun until they came to a meadow of lush green sea grass. Excited, but nervous, heads poked from between the strands.

"Henri, it's Henri!" his family called out, overjoyed to see him.

Henri turned to Ryba, as at last he could see her true form. "Come with me," he begged.

Ryba was tempted, but shook her head. "It is not my time. I have still to earn my peace," she added with a sad smile. "Go be with your people. You have earned your reward."

Henri gave her a last beautiful smile bristling with his shark-like teeth, then turned and swam off into the sparkling waters.

X X X

Dean pulled up outside the police station, as arranged with their contact. Even though they were expected, the habits of a lifetime meant he couldn't quite bring himself to switch the engine off in case they needed a quick getaway.

They sat in silence for a while, Sam watching the muscle jumping in his brother's jaw. He decided he shouldn't ask. _I_ _'m not gonna ask_. It was a mantra he often chanted to himself when he knew pleading with Dean to share his feelings was more likely to elicit a growl in response. It was no good, he couldn't help himself. "Do you want to talk about it?" he pressed at last.

Dean somehow managed to turn his scowl up a notch, only to seem to collapse back into himself.

As he turned to his brother, Sam was struck by the dark shadows under Dean's eyes and how drawn and tired he looked

"Just once, man. Just _once_ , couldn't we have something for us?" said Dean, in a voice that was little more than a sigh.

Sam felt his heart lurch as he gave the tiniest of nods, his thoughts turning to Shawna, their dad, _Jess_.

"At least we still got each other. I swear, Sammy, I don't know what I'd do…"

A sharp chill ran up Sam's spine and for the briefest moment he was filled with an overwhelming sense of dread.

Dean shifted in discomfort in his seat, already regretting the uncharacteristic oversharing. He pinched the bridge of his nose, more to avoid eye-contact with Sam than to relieve the sudden tension headache pounding in his temples. _I let my guard down and look where it's got me. Dad would've kicked my ass for letting that monster go. Without him I've gotten soft._

He forced the feelings down, burying them deep. A few moments later, it was as if nothing had happened and, ignoring Sam's sympathetic look, he seized upon a sudden opportune distraction.

"Oh boy, is that her? Sheesh, how'd he ever get any work done?"

Sam stepped from the Impala. "Rosy?" he asked, assuming this was Tyrone's colleague, who had contacted them.  
The stylishly black-clad, curvaceous redhead passed Sam a small, brown, paper-wrapped parcel. "Tyrone's description didn't do you justice," she purred.

Sam blushed furiously, feeling very exposed. He glared at Dean, who just smirked in silent amusement at his brother's discomfort.

"He arranged this before..." Rosy trailed off, seeming suddenly vulnerable. She took a breath and collected herself. "He wanted you to have this," she said with an appraising, lingering second-look, her kittenish persona firmly back in place. She gave Sam a saucy wink before sashaying off, well aware that he would stand and watch until she was out of sight before getting back into the car.

Dean looked over Sam's shoulder, "Are those real consultant detective IDs?"

"Yep, and looks like he's expunged every state misdemeanor and speeding ticket, too."

Dean whistled under his breath, "Thank you, Detective Tyrone McFarling."

X X X

Tyrone walked through the copse of trees. The bright sunlight cast a slightly dizzying, but beautiful, pattern of shadows across the overgrown dirt track ahead of him. He took a moment to enjoy the silence and feeling of peace that had been so lacking from his life of late.

He gave a little huff of wry amusement as his meditations were almost immediately interrupted by a passerby. The man stared at him in blatant curiosity.

Tyrone flashed his badge, "What can you tell me about Mrs. Bouřková?" he asked, gesturing in the direction of the dilapidated house at the end of the road.

The man gaped open-mouthed at him, and for a moment Tyrone wondered if the man was somehow mentally deficient.

"I'd h-heard there was a f-foreign... woman who l-lived there," the man stammered.

Tyrone frowned in confusion. "And?"

"I remember my folks telling me that she was brought over from Europe by a G.I. after World War Two, but he left her at the altar and she d-drowned herself in the river in grief," the man gulped.

Tyrone raised an eyebrow and motioned for the man to continue. "The neighborhood kids always said the house was h-haunted."

Tyrone was mildly amused by how terrified the man seemed to be of him. "So, did you ever see anything?" he asked curiously; after all he'd seen recently, he was pretty much open to anything.

"No, I never saw nothing," the man squeaked and suddenly sprinted off before Tyrone could ask any other questions.

Tyrone chuckled in amusement, what a great place for monsters to hide – with neighbors as weird as this they'd seem positively normal by comparison.

He trudged up to the house at the end of the dirt track and knocked hard four times on the door. He wanted answers.

X X X

"Detective McFarling," said Ryba in resigned recognition as she answered the door.  
Tyrone looked at her, blinking blearily, feeling as if he'd woken from a deep sleep. His hand unthinkingly made for the cross he'd taken to wearing around his neck since he'd met the Winchesters.

Ryba laughed in dry, honest amusement, and Tyrone wondered fleetingly how the blind woman knew what he'd done. "I am not vampire, you know," she said.

She gestured for him to enter and offered him a seat. "I thought you might be back with questions. I am sorry it is this way," she said cryptically.

Tyrone shrugged, not really understanding. It wasn't like he really thought she'd done anything wrong and Henri had turned out to be an ally of sorts, after all.

"You're not human, are you?"

Ryba seemed mildly amused by the statement. "No, I am not."

"You don't seem like a monster."

"I find that people usually see what they want to see," she smiled, "Henri saw a harmless old lady, you saw a monster protecting a killer."

"So which is it?"

Ryba smiled. "Can it not be both? I am a very old lady, Detective. I tire of this world and this life. Henri needed me, but now you are here I see that my job is not yet done, that is why I am still here."

"What do you mean?"

Ryba paused. "How did you get here?"

Tyrone stared at her in confusion. He felt a sudden chill and had to force himself not to flee in terror.

Ryba started to comb her hair, humming a little tune under her breath. Tyrone felt himself start to relax.

"What do you remember of the battle with Wąda?"

Tyrone stared at her blankly.

Ryba started to sing and the foreign words and tune carried the detective along like a leaf floating in a stream.

He sat up and gasped in sudden, horrified realization.

"It is all right," Ryba patted his hand comfortingly. "Just lie back and listen to the music, it will carry you to where you need to go."

Tyrone choked back a shuddering, grief-stricken sob, but allowed Ryba to gently guide him back into the chair. Ryba continued to sing, holding his hand until the spirit of the detective faded from view.

X X X

_Eight Months Later_

Rachelle sprang up, hands balled into fists, staring blindly at the television set.

"No!" she shouted.

The word escaped her before she could contain it. She had just sat with Meredith on their soft, blue cushion couch, watching the Season Two finale of _Supernatural._ Throughout the hour-long show, Rachelle's body was rigid, tense with the revelations of what was happening to... she couldn't bear to think about it. _Dean sold his soul to a demon? Dean would be going to Hell?_

"Idiot!" she shouted, wishing Dean could hear her. "Of all the stupid stunts..." It was just like Dean to do something like this when he was bat-ass crazy with grief for Sam. Yes, that was Dean, all right. He'd throw away everything for Sam... and he had. Just like his dad had done for him.

The ache in Rachelle's heart was growing as the news of Dean's deal sank in. This was worse than sitting through last week's episode and seeing Sam die. She was in shock at the time, but she didn't quite believe it. _Sam can't be dead_... She remembered how he'd been so patient with her friends... the other Rachelle's friends... _no, they were my friends, too,_ she thought. Mer had hugged her as they watched Sam dying in Dean's arms. She had sat, rigid, screaming inside, holding back the tears because the idea was still unreal to her. This was _Supernatural_. Maybe some mystical mojo could bring him back?

The week of waiting was torture. Her hopes for Sam died when she saw his body. One moment she was numb, and the next a desperate anguish - a pale shadow of what Dean must be feeling - pierced her emotional cocoon. She looked on in horror as Dean raced to offer himself up for Sam and kissed the demon bitch.

The joy of seeing Sam breathe again was eclipsed by a deep despair even deeper than what she experienced when she realized Sam was dead. It was the torment of the thought that in a year, _her Dean_ would be tortured... It was the pain of knowing that anything he did to get out of the deal would kill Sam all over again. It was the ache of sitting on her soft couch and watching Sam and Dean suffer, and not being able to _help_.

_How would they stop it?_

Since she'd come back to her own universe, every week was the same. Once she got past the bubbly feeling of being back with Mer, the pain of losing Dean hit her. It wasn't like Dean had broken up with her. He'd kissed her, and the promise of that kiss had mingled with the knowledge that he was saying goodbye. Whatever they'd had, it had been cut off before it could develop. Because Dean had to do the right thing, the _heroic_ thing, and send her back to her own universe.

But at least she had _Supernatural._

It was exquisite torture, but that hour, and only that hour, was what had kept her sane from one week to the next. She loved hearing Dean's smart-ass lines, loved watching him move on the screen. She drank in Dean like she'd been dying of dehydration. And she longed for more.

It wasn't much, this twilight life she was living, but at least during that hour, with Dean and Sam, she felt alive again. It was like watching another world through a one-way mirror. The world she wished she lived in.

"Rachelle," Mer would tell her, "You've got to stop this."

Rachelle agreed, but she wouldn't stop watching. She knew what she was doing to herself. She could even name the clinical term for her obsession.

What kept her coming back was the prospect of hearing what was happening to Sam and Dean... _what might be happening,_ she reminded herself... As Mer kept telling her, there was no guarantee that the storyline in the show mirrored what was happening to Sam and Dean in their universe. She kept telling herself that because she hated to think that Dean was suffering through some of the inner torment the character Dean had been going through this season. The burden that John had placed on Dean, the revelation that his father was suffering in Hell, Dean's wanting just to escape, to give up hunting, sometimes, she thought, to give it all up... Rachelle longed to wrap her arms around him, to make him laugh, to ease some of the burden.

All she could do was watch.

_Dean's going to Hell?_

"Rachelle," Meredith said, "look at me."

Rachelle didn't respond. Mer got up and took Rachelle in her arms, and the tears that had been threatening to come all week burst from Rachelle like a thunderstorm on a sunny day. She stood, sobbing silently, while Mer held her and rocked her like a baby. The soft security of Mer's love engulfed her and she wished it were that simple. This was no book she could close and leave behind, no movie she could finish, secure in the knowledge that these were only characters. The innocence of the happy ending was long gone.

When the squall had subsided and she'd cried herself out, they both sat down again, Rachelle mopping at her eyes with the tissues Mer handed her. In the aftermath, she felt drained and purged of emotion. What was left was grim determination.

Mer sensed the change. "You're going, aren't you?"

"What are you talking about? Going where?"

"You're going back to Dean." Mer's voice was shaky, as if she was trying to sound neutral, but Rachelle heard the pain in her friend's voice. It was like a slap.

She sighed. She never could lie to Mer. "I wish I could take you with me..."

"I'll miss you, Rachelle."

Mer's reaction shocked her. "You're not gonna try to stop me?" Her friend's selfless support astounded Rachelle, though she'd never known Mer _not_ to support her. But still...

"Stop you?" Mer's incredulous tone made Rachelle wonder if her friend was insulted. "Why would I stop you? You've been living in Hell long enough! Besides..." Mer squeezed Rachelle's hand, "it's kind of a relief that you're finally going. I've been waiting for this for a long time."

Rachelle stared at her, a bit hurt. "You _want_ me to go?"

"No..." Mer sighed. "Of course I don't want you to go, Rachelle. None of us do. But we knew what you were planning, we figured it out months ago."

"I was that obvious, huh?" Rachelle couldn't keep the chagrin from her voice. She wondered what kind of hunter she would make, if her plans were so transparent.

"Only to the people who know you," Mer assured her. "Those intense Tai Kwan Do sessions... the late night sessions at the library... all those questions for Shawna about esoteric books... Did you really think we'd believe that you needed to translate Esoterica Demonica for your psych paper?"

"Okay, that was a bit much," Rachelle admitted

"We were wondering why you waited so long. Amy was telling me we'd have to push you into it... I don't know, bake a cake and ice it with the words _Go get Dean already!"_

Rachelle laughed at the bizarre image. She smiled, realizing all at once how lucky she was in her friends. "I just..."

"Didn't want to leave me?" Mer guessed. "I don't want you to, either, but it's obvious you have to, girl. How else will Dean get to read those drabbles you wrote for him?" she teased.

Rachelle blushed. She had written quite a few drabbles, her own responses to leaving Dean, and to the episodes since she'd been back. She hadn't even thought of what Dean would think, had never expected him to read them.

"He'll probably think they're too chick-flicky," she admitted, not looking directly at Mer.

"Maybe he'll think they're romantic," Mer countered. "Or maybe he'll think they're hot."

 _Hot Dean..._ Images raced through her head, of Dean in the Impala, Dean shirtless in the bathroom while she taped him, Dean cuddling on the couch... Dean in bed... She felt her face flush and tried _not_ to dwell on some of the dreams she'd been having since he kissed her.

"You have the ring, I assume?"

She nodded. "Safe in a box upstairs. I put it on a new chain. I'll have to wear it to open the vortex." She stopped a moment, struck by a sudden idea. "But Mer, we know what to expect this time. Why don't you come with me?"

"And meet Sam and Dean?" Mer sounded wistful. "Well, much as I'd love to, much as I'll miss you, you know I can't leave Alex. And trans-universe travel, well..."

"A bit of a strain on a marriage, I'm sure," Rachelle said lightly, while inside her heart broke at the thought of leaving her friend again. There really was no one like _her_ Mer.

"But I can help you. And Amy and Shawna will too. You can't go on like this, Rachelle. If going back to Dean is the only way you can find sanity, well... We'll find a way to get you there."

For the first time in eight months, Rachelle felt like things were going to be all right.

Later that night, as she lay in her bed upstairs, Rachelle fingered the ring that had started it all, the purple stone shining in the moonlight. It was really happening.

_I'm gonna find a way to save Dean from Hell._

X X X

_A/N Judithyaffa speaking. It's been a pleasure writing this, and so much fun. Wanted to thank all of you for being such loyal readers and my coauthors for being such amazing coauthors. We've already gotten requests for more stories with Rachelle and Dean. We are thinking about doing a sequel to this story. Let us know what you think, what you'd like. We're always open to ideas._


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